From Beyond Between
by Everybody's Neesan
Summary: Dioron and Mordekai. Two brothers whose paths will bring them together until they are torn apart by a force so powerful it threatens all of Pern...
1. Introduction

Author's Note: I am not Anne McCaffrey, nor in anyway related to her. Ergo, I do not own Pern or its people. This story is set in Pern but focuses on my characters, with appearances by Ms. McCaffrey's.

* * *

"Mordekai! Where are you?" Dioron cried, peering through the milling crowd. All around him, wagons were being packed with goods the people of Fer Hold were hoping to sell at the Spring Festival.

From the third wagon over, his mother called, "Have you found him yet?"

"Not yet, Mother!" he called back, and as he said it, a hand came down on his shoulder and a voice yelled, "BOO!" Dioron jumped and nearly shrieked, but he stopped himself just in time and turned to find his younger brother Mordekai clutching his sides, helplessly laughing.

"You should… have seen… your face!" he gasped between giggles.

Dioron scowled. "Mother and I have been looking for you all morning! She wants help packing the wagon for the Festival."

The Spring Festival was one of the biggest events of the Pernese calendar. For two days, everyone on Pern came to Fort Hold. The Festival was where apprentices were chosen and new craftmasters made. Goods were bought, sold and traded and there was food, wine, dancing and music all day and all night long.

Mordekai's eyes lit up. "I can't wait to get to the Festival! I've been saving my marks for two Turns!"

"Well, if our wagon isn't packed in time, we'll be left behind and we'll miss it!" said Dioron, amused.

"Then let's hurry!" Mordekai cried, dashing towards the wagon. "What'll you buy with your marks, Di? I want some bubbly pies, and another pipe, and maybe a redfruit…"

The list went on and on as he reached the wagon and started lifting things into the back. Dioron smiled. Every child always wanted bubbly pies at any Gather or Festival, and Mordekai loved his pipe collection, which he added to whenever he could. He usually made his own, but it was always a treat for him to look at, and buy, those made by others. And as the Festival was held at Fort Hold, with the Harper Hall just across the square, there would be a wide selection of them.

"Di?" Mordekai asked, setting down a small chest. "What do you want?"

"Me?" said Dioron, surprised.

"Yes, you! What do you want?" Mordekai asked, grinning.

"I want to apprentice to the Dolphin Hall," Dioron replied.

While Mordekai loved music, Dioron loved the sea. Fer Hold was carved into one of the rocky cliffs on Tillek's coastline, and you could hear the crash of the waves everywhere in the Hold. A dolphin and his dolphineer had once guided the ship Dioron's father was on safely back during a storm, and Dioron had never forgotten it. He had been saving his marks for five Turns for one of the masks and tanks that allowed humans to breathe underwater and that all dolphineers had.

"Did you ask Mother if you could apprentice?" asked Mordekai in awe.

"I asked her last night after you went to bed, and she smiled and said I could. She and Father always wanted us to apprentice ourselves when we were old enough, and she's delighted that I chose the Dolphin Hall," Dioron explained.

"Could I apprentice too, but to the Harper Hall?" Mordekai asked excitedly.

"You're too young. You have to be twelve Turns to be an apprentice."

"Not always. They say that Master Piemur started his apprenticeship at eight Turns. And I'm two Turns older than that," said Mordekai defensively.

"Maybe that did happen, but there are so many stories about Master Piemur that no one ever knows what to believe!" Dioron said with a small laugh. "Now, we'd better hurry. Aunt Jayne's wagon is heading towards the gate!"

Up ahead, Jayne's wagon was trundling out of the gate, her younger brother's close behind. "Let's get moving, boys," said the boys' mother, coming up behind them. Ilia was no longer young, but you couldn't tell from her face. Her long black hair was always tied back, and wings of white at the temples only gave her an air of dignity, not age. Since her spouse's death three Turns earlier, she had taken upon herself the burden of raising her family, and the strain showed in her face, though only to those who knew her well.

"Mother, is Dioron really going to apprentice to the Dolphin Hall?" asked Mordekai.

"If Master Readis accepts him," she answered with a smile.

"Nobody could turn down my big brother," said Mordekai proudly.

She smiled. "He won't have a chance to be accepted or turned down unless you two get into the wagon!"

Dioron and Mordekai scrambled into the back of the wagon as Ilia harnessed Thir, the family runner beast.

"We're off!" yelled Mordekai. Dioron grinned at his brother's joy, and lay back in the straw to contemplate his hoped-for apprenticeship.

* * *

Two days later, the wagons arrived at Fort Hold.

"We're here!" the boys cried together.

"Yes, and before you run off, I want you to help me unpack and set up the stall," said Ilia, smiling at the boys' enthusiasm.

"Yes, Mother," they chorused. She laughed, and the boys joined in.

Ilia halted Thir, and the wagon rolled to a stop behind him. "Di, you help me set up the table, and Mor, you start getting down the smaller boxes," she instructed, climbing into the back of the wagon.

"That's the last of it, Mother," called Dioron later, putting the last delicately carved cup in its place among the others. Ilia was a woodcarver, and a good one. Her carved wooden cups, plates and bowls even graced the table of Lord Ranrel, Lord Holder of Tillek.

"Can we go see the Festival now, Mother?" begged Mordekai.

"I suppose so. Off you go! I'll join you this afternoon."

Dioron and Mordekai raced off, laughing with each other, Ilia gazing after them with a smile on her face.

* * *

"Where do you want to go first?" Dioron asked, loping beside his brother with long, easy strides.

"To get some bubbly pies!" Mordekai shouted happily.

As the boys ducked and weaved through the crowd, they heard a voice call out to them. "Hey, Di! Mor!" They stopped, and soon spotted their friend Drianne waving at them.

"Drianne!" they called back, and as soon as the coast was clear, they ran across the square to her.

"How are you, Drianne?" asked Dioron politely.

"As good as ever!" she replied cheekily, and threw her arms around him.

"It's great to see you two again!" she added, giving Mordekai a hug too.

He returned it and said, "How is your family?"

"They're fine too. Mother said that I was to invite you and your mother to join us when we walk around the Festival later if I saw you."

"Well, we're going to have a look around now, but we'll come with you later too," explained Dioron.

"I'm going to get some bubbly pies!" said Mordekai excitedly. "Do you want to come?"

"Of course!" she laughed. "Let's go!"

The three children headed for the baker's hold, where the first batch was already being served up. And, to their dismay, was already being bought by a man dressed in harper blue. He turned, the hot pastries in his hands, and grinned at them.

"Hello, Drianne," he said in a deep voice.

"Hello, Uncle Piemur," she replied, matching his grin.

"You'll have to call me Master Piemur along with the others after tomorrow," he warned jokingly.

"But only during classtime," she laughed.

"Classtime?" Mordekai asked.

"After tomorrow, Drianne will be an apprentice at the Harper Hall," Piemur explained.

"Really? Congratulations!" exclaimed Dioron. "I plan to apprentice to the Dolphin Hall this Festival."

"I hope you're accepted," she said eagerly.

"So do I," Piemur added.

"Look, the next batch of bubblies is finished. Get them quick, or they'll go cold!"

"Six for a thirty-second," said the journeyman baker.

"Here you are, sir," said Dioron, passing over the mark. "My treat, Drianne. Take two, and you too, Mor," he added, turning to look at his brother. Mordekai took the pies, mumbling his thanks to the journeyman and Dioron, and turned away.

"I'll see you later," Piemur said, and moved off towards the rest of the Festival.

"Bye!" Drianne called after him.

The rest of the day was spent running around the Festival. At first it was just the three of them, but mid-afternoon their parents joined them. All through the day, Mordekai was silent. Nothing he saw seemed to interest him and he didn't even ask to go to the Harper booth to look at pipes as he normally did.

"Mordekai?" Dioron said quietly as he sliced his wherry during dinner. "What's wrong?"

Ilia was dancing in the square while Drianne's mother took a turn with two other harpers, and Drianne herself had gone for more bubbly pies.

"Nothing," Mordekai mumbled.

"You can't fool me," Dioron admonished. "You've been awfully quiet all day. You didn't even want to look at pipes! What's wrong?"

"It's… Drianne," Mordekai admitted. "I know she's twelve Turns old, but…"

"Oh, so you're in love with her, are you?" Dioron teased.

"No!" said Mordekai fiercely. "But I am jealous of her," he sighed, settling back down.

Dioron gaped. "Jealous of her?"

"Because she's an apprentice at the Harper Hall and I'm not," Mordekai explained. "I want so much to be an apprentice, even though I'm too young, that I'm getting jealous because one of my best friends is becoming one! I hate being jealous of her!"

Unnoticed in the shadows behind them, Drianne listened thoughtfully. An idea struck her, and she smiled to herself. She started forward, and put the tray of bubbly pies down on the table, ignoring their surprised faces.

"Here we are, fresh bubblies!" she announced happily. "Mind them until I come back, will you? Thanks." Before the astonished brothers could say anything, she dashed off.

Drianne ran through the crowd, occasionally stopping to look around. It wasn't long before she found the man she was looking for. The MasterHarper was a hard man to miss, tall and dressed from head to toe in blue.

"Father!" Drianne called, racing across the square to him. Sebell looked down at his youngest daughter and smiled.

"Hello, Drianne!" he laughed, leaning down and giving her a hug. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. Father, I have a favour to ask," Drianne explained.

"Oh?" he said, a mock frown on his face.

"You see, my friend Mordekai loves music as much or even more than I do, but he… can't apply to the Harper Hall."

"Why not?" he asked.

"He wants to, but his mother is really protective, and she doesn't want to let him go," explained Drianne.

"She'll have to let go of him sometime," Sebell chuckled.

"Anyway Father, you were saying the other day that you needed a few more boy sopranos, and Mor's voice is still high and pure. He even has a better voice than Dioron, and you've heard him sing."

Sebell looked puzzled, then his face cleared as Drianne said, "Remember, Father? You heard Dioron and I practising a song for a Gather together once, and I remember you being really disappointed that he wanted to become a dolphineer rather than a harper. You said he had a wonderful voice."

"Oh, him! Yes, I do remember now. And you say the younger one is even better? Hmm. What exactly do you want me to do, Drianne?"

Drianne rejoined the boys a short time later, grinning from ear to ear. Dioron was about to ask why she was so happy, but was forestalled by Ilia's arrival.

"Are you three having fun?" she asked, sliding onto the bench.

"Yes, Mother," the boys chorused.

"Well, if you can take care of yourselves, then I'm going to go and have another dance with L'dis. We might even have a go at the toss dance," she said with a smile.

* * *

Well, that's the first chapter! I appreciate reviews, because I really do want to know what people think. 


	2. Apprentices

Thank you so much to ginalee and Amere Mortal for reviewing the first chapter! Reviews are so encouraging, especially when helpful and/or nice!

Again, I own nothing except the characters I created.

* * *

Mordekai opened his eyes and groaned as the sun hit them. Then they snapped open again. The sun! He sat up, and blinked. All around him, there were people looking at the stalls and bargaining with the stall-owners. He'd fallen asleep at the table last night, and now it was morning! He looked for the others, but while Dioron and Drianne were still fast asleep with their heads on the table, he could see no sign of his mother.

He was beginning to feel alarmed, when she strolled around the corner, talking to a man in weyrhide. Ilia noticed he was awake, and waved. He waved back, stood up, and went to meet them.

"Here's a thirty-second. Get yourself some breakfast, love," Ilia said, giving him the mark.

"Thank you, and see you later, Mother," he replied, then took off in search of breakfast.

Two redfruit later, he was wandering the square when he remembered that he hadn't had a look at the pipes yesterday.

"Hello Mor! Didn't see you yesterday. Thought you weren't coming!" hailed the journeyman behind the stall as Mordekai approached.

"Of course I'm coming, Mantrole!" Mordekai replied, waving to him. "You didn't think I'd miss an opportunity to buy a new pipe, did you?"

"No, I know you too well for that!" chuckled Mantrole. "Got quite a few pipes this Turn, and some that are Master-made!"

"I'm looking for a good bass pipe at the moment," Mordekai said. "I only have the one, and its tone is starting to crack."

"Well, you made that one nearly five Turns ago, didn't you? Most only last for two, three Turns. I'm not surprised that it's cracking up, especially as it was the first pipe you made. Sort of surprised you started with a bass pipe. Most people start with an alto, or a tenor."

"Well, Father was a bass, and I told him I wanted a pipe that sounded like his voice," Mordekai explained. "He was the one who taught me how to play and make pipes in the first place."

"Well, do you want to try one?" Mantrole asked, gesturing towards the rows of pipes on the right-hand side of the table.

"Doesn't look like you have any bass pipes," said Mordekai, disappointed. "But I'd like to look for a treble. I prefer the sound of freshwater reeds for a treble, but no reeds grow in the lakes near Fer, so I have to wait for Gathers to get a really clear one."

He studied the pipes for a moment, then reached for one of them. "This is a freshwater," he said, bringing the pipe to his lips. He blew through it, then put it back.

"What's wrong?" Mantrole demanded, suddenly a professional salesman.

"It's slightly sharp," answered Mordekai, with a slight wince.

Mordekai tried a few more pipes, then found one down the back that was freshwater and perfectly in tune.

"You like that one?" asked Mantrole, noticing the joyful expression on Mordekai's face.

"Oh, yes! It's made from one of those freshwater reeds you can only find in northern Ruatha, but it's been cured in the sea. Master Menolly made this one, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did," said Mantrole, astonished. "How did you know?"

"Oh, her treble pipes always have slightly smaller finger holes than most others, and she often cures freshwater reeds in the sea," Mordekai answered.

"Play me something, just to try it out, eh? It's been a while since I heard you play," Mantrole said.

Mordekai raised the pipe to his lips, and began to play. At first, he played so softly that Mantrole could barely hear him, but it gradually built in strength, until Mantrole felt he was being buffeted by a gale. It suddenly died away, and became the sound of rain on glass. Mantrole shook himself as it ended with the sound that sunshine should make and Mordekai said proudly, "I wrote that one last summer. Want to hear another one?"

"Yes, please," said Mantrole. "Play me one of your early ones."

Mordekai launched into another song, a bright, cheerful song, which had Mantrole laughing as it ended. "How much for the pipe?" Mordekai eagerly asked.

"Four marks," Mantrole laughed. "I'd have charged you four and a half, but the songs knocked down the price. But don't expect the same next time!"

"I won't," Mordekai promised. He handed over the marks, and ran back into the crowd, waving, his precious new pipe clutched to his chest.

* * *

As soon as he had gone, Sebell stepped forward from the back of the booth and said quietly to Mantrole, "That was Mordekai?" 

"Yes. He's easily the best piper I've ever heard, he's pretty good on brass and his voice is superb. His gitar and harp might need a bit of work, but I haven't heard him play anything stringed for a while. He's been playing, making and composing for pipes since he was knee-high."

"And he has perfect pitch," finished Sebell, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I think Drianne may be right about him!"

* * *

When Mordekai reached the table, Drianne and Dioron had woken up and were looking around blearily, rubbing sleep from their eyes. 

"Morning!" Mordekai said cheerfully.

"What time is it?" Drianne moaned.

"It's about ten of the clock," he replied, grinning, knowing what her answer would be.

"That's not morning!" she groaned, as usual, and put her head back down on the table.

Dioron, however, looked alarmed, and said, "I need to find Master Readis quickly! They announce new apprentices at noon and I have still haven't applied to the Dolphin Hall! If I'm too late, they may not accept me!"

He stood up and hurriedly straightened his clothes. "Do I look presentable?" he asked Mordekai, who assured him he did. "Let's go, then," Dioron said resolutely, and marched off. Mordekai followed him, and they soon came to the booth that represented the Dolphin Hall. Dioron took a deep breath, and walked up to the journeyman behind the bench.

"Hello. My name is Dioron, and I wish to apply for apprenticeship at the Dolphin Hall," he said, staring straight ahead.

"Can you swim?" the journeyman asked, looking up at him. "That's one of the basic requirements of the Hall, though we do help those who aren't confident."

"Yes, sir. I'm an excellent swimmer," Dioron replied nervously.

"If I were to throw you into a lake with your clothes on, what would you do?" the journeyman asked. Dioron answered, and the journeyman asked a few more questions, which Dioron obviously answered to his satisfaction, because the journeyman suddenly stood up, held out a hand, and smiled.

"Welcome to the Dolphin Hall, Dioron," he said warmly, shaking Dioron's hand. "Glad to have you with us."

Dioron sagged with relief. "You mean, I pass? I'm in?"

"From noon today, you are an apprentice of the Dolphin Hall," the journeyman replied. "You'll be given your badge and everything when your apprenticeship is announced, and you'll be joining us on the ship back to the Dolphin Hall next week. Please fill out this form, and put it here when you finish," indicating a spot on the desk. "See you at noon!" He sat down again, and began writing.

Outside the booth ten minutes later, Dioron gave a huge sigh of relief. "I'm glad that's over with," he sighed. "I've never been so nervous in my life!"

"Well, it's finished now, so don't stress about it. Let's go get Drianne and look around until noon," suggested Mordekai.

"Let me guess. You want to go to the Harper booth, right?" asked Dioron, smiling.

Mordekai grinned. "Went while you were asleep!" He produced his new pipe, then tucked it away again.

Dioron laughed, then shouted, "Race you to Drianne!" as he took to his heels, Mordekai right behind him.

* * *

The three of them wandered around for a while, then headed towards the Harper platform in the middle of the square, the place from where the new apprentices would be announced. As they reached it, Master Fandarel, the Master Smith, stood on the platform and called for everyone's attention. 

"It is now noon, and by custom, this is the day when new apprentices are chosen," he boomed. "The new apprentices for this Turn at the Smith Craft Hall are…" He read out a list of names from the paper in his hand, and boys and girls came from the crowd and moved to stand behind him on the platform as the crowd cheered. And so the list went on, every Craft Master reading out a list of names and gathering their apprentices, until only the Dolphin Hall and the Harper Hall were left.

Master Readis stood on the platform, and called out a list of names, ending with "Apprentice Dioron, of Fer Hold."

"Congratulations, Di!" said Drianne excitedly, giving him a hug.

He returned it, then as he moved towards the platform and his new master he whispered, "Look, here comes your father."

Sebell stepped up onto the platform as Readis and his apprentices left it, and looked down at the crowd. "My friends, I welcome you today, at a time when some of your lives will be greatly changed. It is customary to take new apprentices at the Spring Festival, and today, twenty-five young people will be joining the ranks of the Harper Hall. Apprentice… Taranil!"

The list went on, until twenty-three boys and girls stood behind Sebell. "Apprentice Drianne!" he called. Drianne gave Mordekai a hug, then strode to the platform. As she moved to stand behind Sebell, he called out the last name. "Apprentice Mordekai!"

Mordekai just stood there, stunned. "Is there a Mordekai of Fer Hold here today?" Sebell called, glancing around at the crowd.

"He's there, sir," called Drianne, pointing at him. "He's just so shocked, he's forgotten how to use his feet!"

There was a burst of laughter from the crowd, and that spurred Mordekai to step up to the platform and take his place among the apprentices. Sebell smiled and winked at him, and Mordekai blushed.

"All apprentices have been called, so let the harpers reclaim the platform, and provide us with some music!" Sebell called.

At once, a trio of harpers moved purposefully towards the platform and Sebell ushered the new apprentices off to make room for them.

"What did you say to him?" hissed Mordekai to Drianne as they walked.

She looked at him in surprise. "What makes you think I said something to him?" she asked innocently.

"Because I didn't apply, and the only other way I could get in is if someone else sponsored me. And as I've never met anyone in the Harper Hall except for you, you must be that person!"

"Actually, Father sponsored you," she said shamefacedly, kicking at the stones beneath her feet. "I… got him to listen to you when you went to the Harper booth this morning, and he thought you were so good, he decided to sponsor you. I only made him aware of you. Besides," she said, changing tacts, "aren't you glad to be an apprentice?"

"Well, yes, but I'm too young to be one!" he hissed. "What happens if they find out?"

"Well, then we'll probably both get in trouble, though I'll be in more trouble than you, because I was the one who got you apprenticed," she admitted.

"What are you two whispering about?" asked Sebell over his shoulder.

They sprang apart and said together, "Nothing!"

He chuckled at their guilty faces, then turned back to the front. They breathed a sigh of relief together as his gaze left them, and giggled as they realised what they'd done.

"You two already know each other?" came a voice from behind them.

They jumped, and turned to see a boy taller than both of them. He had black hair, freckles, green eyes, a tan and a crooked nose, they would later learn, from his fights with his brothers.

He stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Brekkennor, but most people call me Brek."

"I'm Drianne," said Drianne, giving him a smile.

"Mor," said Mordekai, shaking his hand.

"Well, after we've got our apprentice badges, do you want to wander around the Festival together?" asked Brek, rubbing his hands together. "I looked over most of it yesterday, but I missed some of it, and I want to finish looking before everything is packed up!"

"That's sounds like fun," said Drianne. "We saw a lot of it yesterday too, but not all."

"I have to find my brother, but then I'll join you," replied Mor.

"Maybe I'll find some of my brothers, too," Brek said, grimacing. "Though I'd rather not. They always pick on me, because I'm the youngest."

The three children collected their badges from the Hall, and spent the rest of the day wandering around the Festival, joined by Dioron, who was also proudly displaying his new badge. Brek didn't find any of his brothers, but there were so many people there that he wasn't really surprised, though he was relieved.


	3. Mor's First Day

If you recognise the character's name, odds are they're not mine.

* * *

Early the next morning, Dioron and Mordekai said goodbye to their mother. Ilia was returning to Fer Hold, the cart she was driving looking empty without the by-now sold crockery and the boys.

"Here, Mordekai," she said, giving him a large package. He opened it, and found three shirts, two in Harper blue, the other in the black he favoured, and two pairs of trousers, one blue, one black.

"Apprentices are supposed to have two new sets of clothing, so I had the journeyman at the Weaver stall make you some. Do you like them?"

"Mother, I love them! Thank you!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around her.

"You already have your clothes Dioron, so I got you something else." She held out an oddly wrapped package, and Dioron took it from her with shaking fingers. He carefully unwrapped it, and gasped.

"Thank you so much, Mother! Thank you!" he cried, cradling the precious diving mask to his chest.

"I asked for the tanks to be delivered to the ship that will take you to the Dolphin Hall," she added with a smile.

A tear appeared in the corner of her eye as she said, "Well, now my little boys are all grown up. I hate having to say goodbye to you, but I know you have to follow your own paths. So, goodbye my sons, and good luck!" She hugged and kissed each of them, then they waved until she was out of sight as the cart slowly rolled away, taking with it the life they had known and the mother they loved.

* * *

"When does your ship leave, Di?" Mordekai asked as Ilia turned the last corner.

"Master Readis said we'll leave on the evening tide," he replied, gazing after the cart. "The other dolphineers and I will be helping to reprovision it today, so this will probably be the last time I see you for a while."

"I wish you weren't going, but I know you have to, so I'll just have to live with it," Mordekai sighed.

"That's my brother," said Dioron affectionately, giving him a quick hug. "Now, if you aren't quick, you'll be late for your first day."

Mordekai yelped. "Look at the sun! I'm already late!"

He turned and scampered towards the Harper Hall, Dioron following more leisurely towards the Hold across the square.

* * *

As it turned out, Mor wasn't late, though he had cut it close. He just had time to slip to a spot at the breakfast table in the dining hall between Drianne and Brek before Sebell stood at the head table and held up his hand for silence.

"First of all," he began in a clear voice, "I would like to welcome our new apprentices for this Turn. I hope that all of you enjoy your time here, and when you leave, it will be with greater wisdom and more skills than you have now. After breakfast, all new apprentices are to remain behind and classes and work sections will be assigned to you. Work sections remain the same as last Turn. Timetables have been posted out in the hall. Now everybody, enjoy!"

He sat down, and drudges began bringing in food. Mor sipped his klah and nibbled a piece of bread as every other apprentice on the table grabbed what they could and started eating ravenously.

"Is that all you're having?" asked Brek between mouthfuls.

"Yes. I never eat much in the morning," Mor replied.

"All the more for us then," said the practical Brek, and turned his attention back to his plate.

* * *

After breakfast, the new apprentices were left by themselves as everyone else left the hall, except for those collecting plates and cups. Instinctively, they turned to each other for support, but everyone was too nervous to say anything. Brek, being his usual bold self, was the first to speak.

"Hi, everyone! My name's Brekkennor, but most people call me Brek," he said brightly.

Drianne decided to follow his lead. "I'm Drianne, and this is Mor," she said, indicating Mor beside her.

Across the group, a girl spoke. "I'm Aliandra, but nearly everyone calls me Allie," she said with a smile. One by one, the others introduced themselves. It broke the ice between them, and everyone started to feel more relaxed.

"Everyone ready to learn?" Brek asked, rubbing his hands together. "I've been waiting for Turns for this!"

"So have we, Brek, so don't think you're the only one," said Allie dryly.

"I can't wait to start!" said the smallest girl there excitedly. "I want to learn everything!"

They all laughed, and nodded their heads. "I'll second that one! I can't wait to start either!" shouted Brek exuberantly.

* * *

"I'm glad to see you're all fired up and ready to go," came a dry voice from behind him.

Brek jumped two feet in the air and spun so he came down facing the man who had spoken. "Yessir, thank you sir," he said very fast.

The man chuckled. "Nice to see some discipline around here for once," he laughed.

Drianne and Mor exchanged glances. _Discipline?_ From _Brek?_ Even though they hadn't known him long, they both recognised a rebel when they met one.

"I won't eat you, boy," the man added kindly. "Now, I am Master Seth, and I am in charge of first-Turn apprentices this Turn. I will teach you the basics of music theory, until you move on to more advanced classes. For this Turn, you will be grouped together as a class, except for work sections and instrumental tuition. The work sections have been posted out in the hall along with the timetables."

"As your musical skill progresses, you will be expected join and form different ensembles. Any of you singers?"

Brek and a few of the others, including Allie, said they could sing, and to his horror, Mor felt Drianne push his hand up too. Mor hated singing in public, and the only time he had was at his father's final farewell.

"Well, Master Piemur is always on the lookout for new members of his choir or his choruses. You'll meet him later today," said Seth with a grin. The reactions of new apprentices meeting Master Piemur for the first were always interesting. "Any musicians?"

Drianne put up her hand, and forced Mor's up too. Brek put his hand, as did Allie, and two dark-haired boys opposite her. "What do you play?" Seth asked kindly.

"Gitar, sir, and so does my brother," said the boy on the left. They were identical, and never apart. It took a very long time for the others to learn to tell which was which.

"I play harp, sir," said Allie in response to his querying glance.

"Drummer, sir," said Brek proudly.

"And as noisy as all the others I've met," Seth said wryly.

"And you?" he asked Drianne.

"Anything with strings, sir," she replied.

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

"My family is very musical, sir," she answered. Seth obviously didn't know of her connection to the Master Harpers, and she preferred to keep it that way. She had seen the children of other Masters picked on in class because of their parents, and had no wish to experience that for herself.

"And you?" he asked, turning to Mor.

Mor froze. Something about Seth was making him feel wary, like he was a hunted animal, and Seth was the hunter. Mor opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

"He plays pipes, sir, and brass," said Drianne, coming to his rescue, but glancing at him curiously. She couldn't understand why he had frozen. True, Mor was often shy, but not this badly.

"We don't get many brass players," Seth remarked. Inside though, he was wondering if he'd seen Mor before, because his face was very familiar. Seth had met many people in his career as a Harper, so it wasn't surprising that he might forget one or two. He frowned, trying to place him, when Piemur's voice came echoing across the dining hall.

"Have you finished introducing our new students to the Harper Hall?" Piemur asked, striding up to join Seth. He glanced at him for moment, noting his puzzlement, then turned to the apprentices. "I'm Master Piemur, and I teach voice here at the Hall," he explained. "Any singers?" The singers put up their hands and Piemur nodded and smiled. "Good, more victims for my choir!" An unsure giggle ran through the group, led by a hearty laugh from Drianne. During the laughter, Mor hid behind Drianne. He didn't like the way Seth was staring at him, and wanted to hide from him as long as he could.

"Right, let's go see what's in store for you today!" Seth said brightly, putting Mor to the back of his mind. He'd leave that puzzle until later. "Follow me out into the hall, please!" He led the apprentices to where the timetables were stuck up, and showed them how to read it. He then led them to a classroom, where he gave them a music theory test to see how much they knew.

* * *

"This afternoon, I'll start teaching you basic gitar. Those of you who can already play an instrument will go to Master Trigarty to be assessed for ensembles. But now, it's time for lunch!" With that, Seth dismissed them, and watched from the window as they ran across the courtyard towards the dining hall, Brek and Allie leading the mad rush. He had learned some of their names that morning, though he was having trouble telling the twin boys apart, as was everyone else. His eye was caught by two figures at the back, walking rather than rushing headlong. Drianne and Mor. Now, there was a puzzle. His fingers tapped on the desk as Seth's eyes unfocused and he let his mind drift back in time, trying to remember where he had seen the boy before.

* * *

OK, I've decided to put up a chapter per review (I know, but I love reviews!). The first chapter was a freebie, but I won't update again until I get another review. 


	4. Secrets

Thank you so much to the people who have left reviews! They have all been very complimentary, and are very encouraging! So thank you to ginalee, Amere Mortal and paisley is a kind of pattern!

Oops, disclaimer thing. I don't own Pern or related establishments. Just Mor, Dioron, Drianne, Brek and some of the minor characters.

* * *

"Scares you? Why?" she asked in surprise. "He seems nice to me." 

"He keeps looking at me funny," Mor said with a shiver.

"Don't worry about it," she advised. A loud bell started ringing, and she grabbed his arm. "Hurry up, we're late for lunch!"

They got through the door and to their seats as Sebell entered, so all they got was a sharp look. They heaved a sigh of relief, then began their meal. Throughout the meal, Mor would look up to find Seth watching him. He would turn back to his conversation with Drianne, Brek and Allie, but he could still feel Seth's eyes on his back.

"What's the matter, Seth?" asked Trigarty, sitting next to him at the table. "You've been staring at that boy since we sat down. Is there something wrong?"

"Hmm?" Seth said absently. "Oh no, there's nothing wrong. I just feel that I've seen him somewhere before."

Trigarty looked hard at Mor, and frowned. Now that Seth mentioned it… "You know, I think he looks a bit familiar to me, too. Now that's odd."

"You can have a closer look at him after lunch. He'll be coming to you for assessment," said Seth, returning his attention to his meal.

"Oh, I will," promised Trigarty.

After lunch, while most of the class returned to Seth for gitar lessons, Mor, Drianne, Brek, Allie and the twins went to another room, where old and broken instruments lined the walls. Mor touched a gitar leaning against the wall that had a large crack running across the body, and shivered. This was a place of musical death, and a mournful air clung to everything in it.

"You OK, Mor?" asked Brek, his eyes filled with concern.

Mor nodded. "Just a little nervous, I suppose."

"There isn't anything to be nervous about, boy," said a voice at the other end of the room. Mor stiffened, then turned. The middle-aged man he'd seen sitting next to Seth was picking his way through the dead instruments towards him.

"Welcome to the workshop of my former master, Jerint," he said solemnly. "I keep meaning to clean up in here, but I've been saying that for Turns, and I don't think I'll get around to it any time soon!"

He laughed, then regarded the apprentices before him. "Do you have instruments to play for me?" he enquired.

The twins lifted the cases at their sides, and Mor produced his pipe, but Allie, Drianne and Brek looked at each other, and Brek said, "Well, sir, my stuff hasn't arrived yet, so my drum is still at home, and Allie's harp is too big for her to move, and Drianne has so many instruments that she didn't know which one to bring. May we borrow instruments from you?"

Trigarty grumbled a little, then he said, "Very well. You can choose in the room over there," and he pointed to another door, "and while you're choosing, I'll assess these three," and he indicated Mor and the twins. Mor gulped, but walked through the door Trigarty had come through, the twins close behind him.

He jumped a little as the door swung shut behind them, and Trigarty eyed him. "You're as jumpy as a cat, boy!" he said, motioning to all three boys to take a seat and sitting down himself in a comfortable armchair behind a desk.

Mor frowned. "What's a cat, sir?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter. Now, boys. What will you play for me?" Trigarty asked, turning to the twins.

They glanced at each other, and one of them said, "The Ballad of Moreta's Ride, sir."

Trigarty's eyebrows lifted, but he gave no other indication of his surprise. "Then play."

As one, they removed their gitars from their cases, checked the tuning, and launched into the ballad. It was a difficult piece, and the boys played a two-part arrangement where the melody and harmony constantly switched back and forth between parts, which made it even more difficult. If one of them was even half a beat slow, it would throw them both out.

As they finished (flawlessly), Trigarty murmured, "A little more work on the dynamics, boys, but overall that was extremely well-played. What are your names?"

"Callame, though most call me Cal," said the one on the left.

"And Lamadisi, though I'm more often called Mad," added the other.

"Mad by name, mad by nature," Cal said affectionately.

Mad stuck his tongue out at him, and Trigarty laughed. "OK, boys, that's enough. See if the others have instruments yet, and if they have, send them in please." The twins headed for the door, and softly closed it behind them.

"Now, what's your name?"

"I'm Mordekai, sir. People tend to call me Mor."

"And what do you play, Mor?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Pipes, sir, and brass," Mor replied. "This is a new pipe, so if you could please excuse any roughness in the tone… This is a common request at home."

Mor brought the pipe to his lips, closed his eyes, and played. Trigarty jerked in his seat as the first few notes hit him, then sank deeper into his chair, regarding the strange boy before him. Mor's small, slender fingers danced over the holes, producing a lilting tune that made Trigarty feel like he was dancing on the waves of the sea, almost hearing the birds cry and smelling the salty air.

He blinked as the song drew to a close. "What is that piece called?" he asked, nearly breathless with wonder. To play with that much skill at only twelve Turns old was incredible!

Mor shrugged. "I tend to think of it as 'Sea-Fairies,' sir."

"What does its composer call it?" Trigarty persisted.

Mor looked puzzled. "I just told you, sir. I'll ask the others to come in now."

Mor walked over to the door and let himself out, leaving a shocked Master Trigarty staring after him. _The child composed that himself?_ he thought incredulously.

* * *

At dinner that night, Brek pounced on him as soon as he sat down. "What did you do to stun Trigarty?" he asked. "The expression on his face when I went in there was absolutely priceless!" 

Mor looked up from his tubers, a surprised look on his face. "I… I didn't do anything! Apart from play!" he stammered.

Drianne, sitting on Mor's other side, put her hand on his arm. "You played 'Sea-Fairies', didn't you?" she said quietly. Mor nodded, and Brek looked bewildered.

"What's 'Sea-Fairies'?" he asked.

"It's one of Mor's favourite pieces, and only the best pipers can play it. Mor plays it a lot, because it's a frequent request in his Hold. His family and the other Holders love it," Drianne answered, not adding, though she longed to, that Mor himself had written it, and when he was only six Turns old. "People don't expect a piece that advanced to be played by a child only ten…" She shut her mouth, but it was too late.

"Ten?" said Brek, puzzled, as Mor glared at Drianne. "You mean, Mor's only _ten Turns old_?"

Drianne nodded miserably. "You mustn't tell anyone. Mor and I will get into so much trouble if you do. Especially me. Father would kill me!"

"Your father?" asked Brek, frowning.

Mor, deciding to get her back, told Drianne's secret. "Drianne is the youngest child of Sebell and Menolly, the MasterHarpers," he announced. Now it was Drianne's turn to glare at him.

"Well, our secrets are out now. Have you got any you'd like to share with us?" said Drianne sarcastically.

Brek took a deep breath, and said quietly, "I suppose. I'm only going to be at the Hall for maybe three Turns."

"Why?" asked Mor and Drianne together, shocked.

"Because my parents are going to let me stand on the Hatching Ground for Impression, once I'm fifteen Turns and there's a clutch," he said proudly.

Their mouths dropped open. "Who are your parents, that they can decide something like that?" said Drianne slowly.

"Hang on," said Mor. "They'd have to be dragonriders. And dragonriders name their children using part of both the father and the mother's names, right? Brekkennor. Brekke and F'nor?"

Brek nodded. "Yes, my father is F'nor, brown Canth's rider, and my mother is Brekke, once golden Wirenth's rider. I'm their youngest son."

"Right. Now that we've all blabbed our secrets, I think we need to agree to never tell them," said Mor briskly.

"I solemnly swear that I will never reveal the secrets told at this table this night," he swore, putting his hand forward. First Drianne, then Brek laid their hands on too, repeated the vow, then all three spat on Brek's hand so the spit mixed.

"We are now bound by spit, and may I be consumed by Thread should I tell the secrets of my spit-brother and sister," Mor announced.

"May I be consumed by Thread should I tell," the others repeated. Their bond now went much deeper than mere friendship, and all three knew it could only be broken by death.

* * *

OK, perhaps a little melodramatic, but it worked for me. 


	5. The Trip South

Pern is not mine. Just some of the characters I'm using.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the ship _Seeker_, bound for the Southern Continent, one very miserable boy clung to the rail and wished that the journey would end.

Keteral came up behind Dioron and slapped him on the back. "How you going, boy?" he boomed.

Keteral was one of the deckhands, and a cheerful, fun-loving man. He had tried to make the new Dolphin Hall apprentices comfortable, but unfortunately, he was rather overenthusiastic at times, and his hearty slap nearly knocked Dioron overboard.

"I'll survive," he said hoarsely. Dioron had been throwing up nearly non-stop since the ship had sailed that evening, and as a result was feeling wretched.

"Don't worry, boy. Lots of people get seasick first time they sail. Why, even I did. But eventually, it just stops. You'll see. One morning, you're just going to wake up, and find out you aren't sick any more. All it takes is a little time for your body to adjust," Keteral said, casually leaning on the rail.

Dioron looked at him wide-eyed. "Really?" he asked in astonishment.

"On my hope of getting my captaincy," he said, smiling.

Dioron smiled too. "Thank you, Keteral," he said with a quiet dignity. "Thank you very much."

He then descended the ladder to the lower deck, eyes firmly fixed on the rungs rather than the swaying lantern above his head. He walked down the hall to the cabin he was sharing with five of the other eleven apprentices, and climbed into the bottom bunk and closed his eyes. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

Back up on deck, Keteral gazed over the rail. _Nice kid,_ he thought to himself. _Funny, but nice. There's something a bit strange about him…_ Glancing up, he realised the sail was too loose, so with the ease of long practise, he shimmied up the mast and set about righting it, all thoughts of Dioron put aside.

The next morning, when Dioron woke up, he found the other apprentices still asleep, and two of them snoring louder than a watch-wher. He shook his head, then quietly left the cabin, silently closing the door behind him. He climbed the ladder to the top deck, and was halfway across it before he realised he didn't feel ill. _Keteral was right, then, _he thought to himself.

Looking eastward, Dioron saw the sun creeping over the horizon. An early riser by nature, the sunrise wasn't a new sight for Dioron, but the sheer beauty and majesty of a sunrise over the sea took his breath away, and it was several long minutes before he realised someone else was standing with him, taking in the sight.

He turned slightly, and his eyes widened as he realised the man standing next to him with his hand held to shade his eyes was Master Readis, senior and founding member of the Dolphin Hall. Readis noticed his glance, and turned to face him. "Sorry to disturb you, sir," Dioron said hastily. "I didn't mean to."

Readis turned to look at the sun again. "You didn't disturb me. If anything, I should apologise for disturbing you, for you were here before me."

Dioron opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and shut it again. "Maybe we should both apologise to each other, then forget about it," he suggested, moving forward to lean on the rail.

He risked a quick glance back towards Readis, and found him shaking with silent laughter. "That's one of the wisest suggestions I've heard in a long time," he said finally, wiping tears of mirth from the corner of his eyes. "And out of the mouths of babes… But never let the other masters catch you speaking like that to me, or you'll get into trouble for being cheeky."

Dioron immediately flushed bright red. "I'm dreadfully sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be cheeky."

Readis regarded him for a moment, the smile never leaving his face. "I don't mind. I'm just warning you for the future. What's your name, lad?"

"I'm Dioron, sir, of Fer Hold," Dioron replied.

Readis snapped his fingers. "I thought you looked familiar!" he exclaimed. "You're Ilia's son, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. Do you know her?" asked Dioron, curious.

"I met her during AIVAS' Great Scheme. I was only a boy, but I remember her well. She and my mother helped get Cove Hold ready for Master Robinton to live in." Readis smiled sadly as he thought of the cheerful Master Harper, now dead twelve Turns.

"I heard she got espoused, and went to live at Fer Hold, but that was the last I heard of her. How many children does she have now, and how is your family?"

"She has two children, sir; me and my brother Mordekai," Dioron began. "We're all well, but my father Master Trassin, who was the Hold Harper, died three Turns ago. His death has made life harder, but we're surviving."

"I'm sorry to hear of your father's death. I never knew him, but I can imagine what sort of man Ilia would have chosen," said Readis sadly.

"Sir, what's the Dolphin Hall like?" Dioron asked curiously. Readis immediately began to describe it to him, glad to get onto a less painful topic.

And that was how Keteral found them two hours later, still chatting away like old friends rather than master and apprentice. He smiled. It had been a long time since he'd heard Master Readis talking and laughing like this.

"Breakfast is ready, sir," he said, respectfully edging his way into the conversation.

"Thank you, Keteral," Readis replied. "We'll be down in a minute." He turned to Dioron. "Think you can stomach food today, youngster?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir!" said Dioron fervently. Now that he no longer felt ill, he was starving!

* * *

Back at the Harper Hall, Mor was listening to Master Seth as he assigned special classes to the apprentices over breakfast. "Brek, you will be spending some of your time every day in the drumheights with Master Dirzan, where you will improve your understanding of both rhythms and drum codes. Drianne, you will receive harp lessons from Master Elimona every afternoon. Mor," and here he paused briefly, "you will not be required to attend theory lessons with me in the mornings as your classmates will be. Instead, you will report to Master Domick each day for lessons in composition, advanced theory and for instrumental tuition." There was a gasp of astonishment, quickly silenced.

"Ensemble lists and times have been posted in the hall, and you are expected to check them to see if you are in any ensembles."

As the class was dismissed, Drianne caught up to Mor, who was walking silently ahead, wrapped in his thoughts. "Mor?" said Drianne tentatively. "Are you OK?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine," he replied absently.

"Are you going to come check the lists with me?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied.

Brek was already out in the hall, looking at the lists. "Well, it looks like I'm supposed to go to the intermediate apprentice ensemble, and that's held at the fifteenth hour," he said, satisfied. "How about you two?"

"Senior apprentice orchestra, twentieth hour," Drianne sighed.

"Same," Mor said, glancing at the lists.

"Look, there's a note for all instrumentalists. 'Check the timetable to see when your instrumental lessons are. Lessons will start tomorrow'," Drianne added.

They checked the instrumental timetable, and found Brek's lessons were at the ninth hour, Drianne's at the ninth and eleventh, and Mor's at the eighth and tenth. "Lucky I'm an early riser," he said dryly, looking at the times.

"Ready for the auditions today?" came a voice behind them. They all jumped, and turned round to find a wickedly grinning Piemur standing there with a cup of klah in his hand.

"What auditions, sir?" asked Brek, puzzled.

"All new apprentices have to sing for me today!" he said, his grin widening even further.

"When, sir?" Mor asked, his stomach doing flips. He hated auditions.

"This afternoon, at the seventeenth hour. See you all there!" He wandered off, whistling merrily.

"Sometimes, he is just insufferably cheerful," said Drianne, putting her hands on her hips. The boys laughed at her expression, which was a sort of fond exasperation, and would probably suit her in fifteen Turns' time.

"What are you two laughing at?" she asked, a frown appearing on her face.

Mor hurriedly wiped his smile off, though it kept creeping back, and took her arm. "Let's go practise for orchestra!" he said brightly, hurrying her off. Brek stayed where he was and kept roaring with laughter.

* * *

Next chapter should be posted tomorrow, when I don't have to worry about studying for my genetics exam anymore!


	6. Master Domick

Thank you to all reviewers; your support means a lot!

Insert usual disclaimer

* * *

"Come in," a voice called, and encouraged by the calmness of the voice, Mor opened the door and went in, quietly closing it behind him. He found himself standing in a front of a huge glass-covered sandtable that dominated the room, though not quite as much as the man behind it. Master Domick was a stocky man, his black hair shot through with silver streaks and his face weathered. His blue eyes were still keen though, and currently widened in shock. "It can't be…" he whispered. "Trassin!" Mor stared at him in disbelief, then horror as he collapsed backwards into the padded chair he had just risen from.

"I can't believe it!" shouted Drianne at the ceiling. "I messed it up _again_!" She glared furiously at the harp in her lap. She must have tried the same three bars fifty times, and still she couldn't get it right!

"What's wrong, Drianne?" came Menolly's voice from the doorway.

Drianne spun to face her mother and said in frustration, "I can't get this section right no matter how hard I try!"

"Maybe I can help," Menolly said with a smile. She moved into the room, went to one off the shelves lining the wall and helped herself to a lap harp left there by one of the journeymen. "Harp was never my best instrument, but I'll try. Which bars?"

Drianne pointed out the appropriate bars, and Menolly peered at them before running a quick scale. "Sounds in tune," she remarked, then played the troublesome bars. "Now you try," she said, smiling at her daughter. Drianne sighed, swallowed her frustration, and tried again.

Again she flubbed it, and Menolly nodded. "I saw what happened that time. Your left third finger missed the string it was supposed to brush, so the whole chord sounded wrong. Try it again, and make sure you get that string." Drianne tried again, and this time, by concentrating on that particular finger, she got it.

"Thank you, Mother!" said Drianne excitedly, throwing her arms around Menolly's neck.

"That's all right, my child," she murmured into her hair. "I'm always here for you, no matter what the problem is."

"Master Menolly!" came a cry from the door. Menolly looked up, and saw a distressed journeyman shifting from foot to foot in the doorway. "What is it, Ranly?" she asked slightly sharply, going to the door. It wasn't often she got to spend time with Drianne. Usually her duties left her too busy to have much family time.

"It's Master Domick! He's collapsed!" he said urgently. "He's been taken to Master Oldive!"

"Oh, my goodness!" Menolly cried. "I have to go, Drianne. I'll see you later!"

She gave her a quick kiss, then bolted out of the room and up the stairs to Master Oldive's office, where she found Master Talmor pacing to and fro outside the door. "How is he?" she asked anxiously.

"Master Oldive said he got a huge shock, and no one can figure out what happened. We've asked the apprentice he was supposed to be teaching, but the child has no idea," he said, waving towards a boy sitting with his back against the wall and his head on his knees next to Oldive's door.

"Mordekai?" asked Menolly, recognising him as one of Drianne's friends. "Is that you?"

He lifted his face, and Menolly was shocked to realise he had been crying. "What did I do?" he asked. "I walked in, he saw me, and he collapsed!"

"Is that all that happened?" she asked, puzzled. What could have shocked Domick so badly?

"No," said Mor, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "He called me 'Trassin'. Then he collapsed. I'm not Trassin! He was my father! Why would he call me Trassin?"

"I have no idea, Mordekai," Menolly said honestly. "We'll have to ask him."

Suddenly, the door opened, and Sebell came out. "Is he all right?" Menolly and Talmor asked together, worried.

Sebell nodded. "He's conscious now, and seems to be recovering. But he won't talk about what happened unless he's," and he inclined his head at Mor, "there."

All three of them stared at Mor. "In that case," said Talmor finally, "let's take him in there." And he gently grasped Mor by the shoulder and propelled him through the door.

"Is this the boy Domick's been asking about?" came a voice as Mor tried to adjust to the brighter light. Full sunlight flooded the room through the large windows, and it had been a lot darker in the hallway.

"Apparently," he heard Talmor reply from behind him. Mor turned towards where the first voice had come from, and saw a man sitting oddly hunched on a stool next to a bed. As he drew closer, Mor realised that his back was oddly twisted, and he couldn't sit straight even if he wanted to.

That was the last thought he spared for Master Oldive, because the man leaning on a mound of pillows in the bed was Domick. "Come here, child," he said gently. Mor took a few steps nearer. "Hurry up!" he said, a little impatient. Mor jumped, then cautiously came close enough for Domick to reach out and touch him.

"You're Master Trassin's son, aren't you?" he said gently, taking his hand.

"Yes, sir," Mor replied, a little confused.

Domick closed his eyes for a moment. Then he nodded to Talmor. "Talmor, if you would be so kind, could you please fetch for me the small wooden box I keep in my living quarters? You'll find it in the top drawer on the right." Talmor nodded, and hurried from the room. "And no looking inside it!" Domick roared after him. Then he subsided. "Tell me of your father," he requested of Mor.

Mor gulped. "Well, sir, my father was Fer Hold's Harper, and it was he who taught me to play and make instruments and how to sing. He and I used to go for long walks, and while we walked, he'd point out reeds and tell me what sort of pipe they were best for, or we'd sing together really loudly, because no one could hear us."

A tear trickled down his face as he spoke of his beloved father. Mor still hadn't gotten over the grief of losing him, even three Turns later.

"I was only little when he became ill, but I still remember watching him toss and turn with the fever that burned him." His hands clenched into fists. "It was one of the winter fevers that are so common in Tillek. Nearly every winter someone comes down with it, and it often claims lives. That Turn, it took my father from me."

"Took your father from you?" Domick whispered, aghast. "You mean, my son is dead?"

There was a round of shocked gasps. "Your son?" whispered Menolly.

"I didn't even know you had a son!" exclaimed Sebell.

"Or a spouse, for that matter," Menolly added.

"I'll show you them," he said, beckoning to Talmor, who had just arrived, the box tucked under his arm. Talmor brought it over, and Domick opened the lid.

"These are drawings of my spouse Trassinine, on our espousal day," he said, lifting out the first two. In one drawing, a beautiful black-haired woman stood by a younger Domick's side, green eyes shining with love and warmth. In the next, they were dancing, their faces nearly glowing with happiness.

"And this is my son," he added, lifting out the next few. A baby held in Trassanine's arms. A toddler, no more than two or three Turns, his too-long black hair tumbling into his eyes. A boy, about twelve Turns old, standing next to Domick and proudly displaying a new Harper Hall apprentice badge. Menolly gasped as she looked at it, for if she didn't know better, she could have sworn she was looking at a drawing of Mordekai. She looked up at Mor to confirm it, and gasped again as the boy from the drawing met her gaze.

"Now you see why I mistook him for Trassin," Domick said, noting Menolly's reaction. "That drawing of my son was done twenty-five Turns ago, but it could have been done of him yesterday," he added, pointing to Mor. "That's what gave me such a shock. It would have been my spouse's birthing day today, had she lived, so I had been looking through the pictures before going to take his lesson. Wouldn't it give you a shock to see a picture come to life?" Menolly just stared at him, open-mouthed. For once, she couldn't find anything to say.

"How did you not know Trassin was dead?" Sebell asked. "Surely such a long silence would have been enough to make you worry?"

Domick shook his head. "After Trassinine died, in the summer of his twelfth Turn, Trassin became bitter, and refused to have anything to do with me. I barely saw him during his time at the Hall; he specifically asked Robinton to allow him not to take classes with me. My own son!"

Menolly instinctively reached out to the pain in his voice, but held back just in time. Domick was in no mood for sympathy.

"After he left, I never heard from him. I didn't even know he had gotten espoused, let alone had children. He didn't even let me know." Domick turned away, and silent tears began to run down his cheeks.

Suddenly, a small hand wiped them away, and Domick opened his eyes in surprise. "Don't be sad, Grandfather," said Mor quietly. "Father often spoke of you to me and my brother, and he told us how good a father you were. And how ashamed he felt at cutting you out of his life when Grandmother died. He said he wanted so badly to talk to you, but after so long being bitter towards you, he felt he didn't have the right. When he was dying, he asked Mother to write a letter for him, and he dictated it to her the day before he died. Mother made three copies of it, and told us that it had been Father's wish that, should we ever meet you, we were to give it to you."

He took a slightly grubby letter from inside his tunic, and pushed it at Domick. "Please read it, sir," he begged.

Domick stared at the letter for a moment, then slowly reached out and took it. He hesitated, then carefully opened it. He scanned it for a little way, and then said quietly, "Listen to this."

"'To my dearest father. Greetings. I know it has been far too long since last we spoke, but I believe that I am now dying, and that the end cannot be far away. The time has come to confront the past, and explain myself. After Mother died, I drew away from you, partly because I blamed you for Mother's death, and partly because I believed that if I didn't care about anyone, then no one else would be taken from me. You were always dear to me, and I could not have borne it had you died too."'

He stopped to clear his throat again, then continued. '"Of course, I realise now that this was wrong, and you probably hate me for leaving you alone."'

"Oh, I could never have hated you!" he whispered, shaking his head.

'"Since I left the Harper Hall, I have journeyed far, but my restless feet finally took me to Fer Hold, on the coastline of Tillek where I found the love of my life. I have become the Hold Harper, and am happily espoused to my dear Ilia, and have been for eleven Turns. We have two sons, Dioron and Mordekai, now nine and seven Turns old. Even this young, both show signs of musical talent, so I'll get Ilia to send them to you when they're old enough, though I think Dioron would prefer to go to the Dolphin Hall."'

'"I know that one letter, no matter its length, is not enough to repair the damage of twenty-odd Turns, but it is a start, and probably all I have time for. I asked Ilia to make sure you got this letter, not only to tell you of my life, but also to tell you that your son is sorry for all the pain he caused you, and begs for forgiveness. It is too late for me to hear your forgiveness now, but perhaps in some other existence beyond death, I will be able to hear, and forgive myself. Your loving son, Trassin.'"

Domick openly wept, and cried out, "I forgive you, Trassin! I forgive you!" He dropped his face into his hands and cried, and when he finally looked up, everyone except Mor had left.

"Thank you for giving me this letter, Mor," he whispered hoarsely. "It has healed some of the deepest wounds of my heart."

"Father would have cried for joy could he have heard you say that," Mor whispered back. "As it is, I must hear it in his place."

* * *

Phew, one exam down. I'll try to keep updating quickly, but studying may get in the way. Not that it has up til now... 


	7. The Auditions

Sorry if this confuses people, but a helpful review from cathrl has caused me to revise Mordekai's age upwards, making him ten instead of seven. It's amazing the difference three extra years can make...

By the way, Pern's not mine.

* * *

Hours later, Brek and Drianne were wandering around the halls. They had both had dinner and attended their rehearsals, and were becoming rapidly more worried about Mor, whom they hadn't seen since he went off for his lesson with Master Domick.

"Mother was awfully worried this afternoon," fretted Drianne. "I hope it didn't have anything to do with Mor."

"You don't think they found out his secret, do you?" asked Brek anxiously.

Drianne shook her head. "No. If they'd found that out, then I would have gotten into trouble too. Father knows that it was me who got him apprenticed."

As they continued to discuss reasons for his continuing absence, the topic of their debate wandered into view. "Mor!" they cried together, and rushed up to him.

"What happened?" asked Drianne.

"Where have you been?" cried Brek.

Mor held up his hands, and gradually, the others quietened. "I spent the afternoon with Master Domick," he began, "who had a heart attack when he saw me." The others stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"You aren't that ugly, surely!" Brek wheezed.

"I'm serious!" Mor said angrily. "He had a heart attack because he thought that I was his son."

There was a shocked silence. "His son?" whispered Drianne. "I didn't even know he had one!"

"Well, he does," said Mor bluntly. "Or rather, he did. His son was my father. Master Domick is my grandfather."

Suddenly Brek slapped him hard on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Congratulations, Mor!' he exclaimed. "You've found part of your family! It's unbelievable! Just last night in the dorm, you were saying you wanted to meet all your relatives, and today, you made a start. Well done!"

"So, how did the singing auditions this afternoon go?" Mor asked, as they turned and strolled down the hall.

Drianne groaned. "Don't remind me," she groaned.

Brek grinned at her, then turned to Mor. "Oh, she was awful," he said, with a wink to show Mor he was joking.

Drianne missed the wink, so she flared up. "I did not! I just messed up a little, because of nerves!"

She threw a punch at Brek, which he ducked, then he turned back to Mor. "Seriously, she did fine. As she said, she messed up a little, but not too much. I, on the other hand," his smile slipping from his face, "messed up completely."

"He forgot the words!" Drianne giggled.

Brek threw her a mock frown, then smiled. "There I was, singing away for the Voice Master at the Harper Hall, and halfway through a verse, I couldn't remember the rest of the words! My mind went completely blank, and I just stood there, my knees trembling, my mouth hanging open, and nothing coming out! I must have looked ridiculous!" He went off into peals of laughter, which set both of the others laughing too.

"Uncle Piemur said you should go see him tomorrow, Mor, so you can audition too. Mother must have told him what happened, because he was a bit annoyed with you this afternoon for not showing up, and wasn't planning to let you audition at all. He wants to see you at the eighth hour," said Drianne, wiping tears of laughter from the corner of her eye.

Mor froze, and the others had taken another half-dozen steps before they realised he was no longer with them. "Mor? What's the matter?" Brek asked curiously, noting how white he had gone.

"You've gotten nervous again, haven't you?" asked Drianne sympathetically. "Don't worry. Just sing something you know all the words to, and you'll be fine," she added, grinning at Brek.

Drianne's words were enough to comfort Mor temporarily, but his fears came back to haunt him later that night and he spent the whole night tossing and turning. When he went down to the hall for breakfast, he was as white as a sheet and jumped at every little noise.

"Morning, Mor! How's it going?" Brek hailed him.

Mor jumped, then said shakily, "Hello."

"What's the matter, Mor?" asked Drianne. "Are you all right?"

"I'm just really nervous," he admitted. "And I'm a bit worried. I'm supposed to be with Master Domick at the eighth hour, but I'm supposed to be with Master Piemur then too. How can I be in two places at once?"

"Haven't you read the noticeboard this morning?" asked Drianne. "Master Domick's lessons have all been cancelled until the end of the sevenday because he's recovering. Now everyone knows that he had a heart attack yesterday, but not why."

Mor heaved a sigh of relief. No one would know he was Domick's grandson. Like Drianne, he knew what the children (or in his case, grandchildren) of Masters went through in class.

"What have you decided to do for your audition?" Brek asked.

"I thought I might do Moreta's solo from the Ballad of Moreta's Ride," Mor replied absently.

"Down an octave, of course," said Brek.

"No," said Mor with a frown, sounding puzzled. "Why should I do it down an octave?"

Brek looked shocked. "Are you really a girl, then?" he exclaimed. "Is your full name Moreta?"

Mor, looking stung, replied, "No, I'm not a girl! And my full name is Mordekai, not Moreta. Why would you think I'm a girl?"

"Because I've never heard a boy able to sing high enough to do Moreta's solo!" Brek exclaimed. "I didn't know that a boy's voice could _be_ that high!"

A cunning look came across his face. "I get it. You tell me you'll do it that high, but you won't. No boy can sing that high. Not many girls can, for that matter."

"Well, if you don't believe me, then come and listen to my audition after breakfast," offered Mor, annoyed that one of his best friends wouldn't believe him. "I'll show you I can sing it."

They sat down for breakfast, Mor still fuming that Brek wouldn't believe him, then afterwards they went up the stairs to the third office on the left; Master Piemur's office. Mor hesitantly tapped on the door, and from within came a merry, "Come in!" Mor took a deep breath, and opened the door.

"Ah, Mor!" exclaimed Piemur, rising from behind the desk he had been sitting at. "You're here to audition for me, correct?"

Mor nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And what of Drianne and Brek? What are they doing here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as the two children came in through the door and settled themselves on two of the stools against the wall.

"Well, sir, Brek didn't believe me when I told him what I intended to sing for you, so I said he could listen to this audition so I could show him I meant it. And Drianne decided to come along too," explained Mor.

"Very well," said Piemur, a grin creeping across his face. "And what _are_ you going to sing for me, young Mor?"

"Moreta's solo from the Ballad of Moreta's Ride, sir," replied Mor.

"At the proper octave? Many singers use that for auditions, but boys usually do it an octave down," said Piemur, settling back in his seat and gazing at Mor.

"At the proper octave, sir."

"Very well, Mor. Please begin," he said. Mor took a deep breath (properly, Piemur was surprised to note) and began. His voice rose sweet and true, and he didn't miss a beat throughout. His dynamics were spot on, and as the final note died away, Piemur admitted to himself that Mor had done as well as he himself had during his boyhood.

Brek was sitting on the edge of his seat, his eyes so wide they were nearly falling out of his face. "He… he did it…" he gasped.

Drianne, sitting next to him, quietly said, "Of course. Mor always does what he says he's going to." Inside though, she was impressed. It had been a quite a while since she had heard Mor sing, and from what she'd just heard, he had improved immeasurably in that time.

"That was very well done, Mor," Piemur said, a smile on his face. "You're the first boy in fifteen Turns I've heard do it in the right octave."

"And who did you hear before that, sir?" Mor asked. He felt that he had never sung better, and from the look on Brek's face, that feeling was probably right.

Piemur grinned cheekily. "Myself. Off you go now, young Mor. I'll add your name to my timetable. Is there any time that isn't any good for you?"

"Well sir, I have lessons with Master Domick at the eighth and tenth hours every day, and orchestra at the twentieth, but any other time is fine."

"Very well. I'll schedule your lessons for the fourteenth hour, then. That gives you plenty of time for lunch, and doesn't interfere with your other lessons."

"Thank you, sir," said Mor, heading out of the door, Drianne dragging a still-gaping Brek with her. "Goodbye."

After the door had swung shut, Piemur got to his feet and stared out of the window. It was rare to find a boy soprano; even rarer to find a good one. Mor was the best the Hall had seen since Piemur himself, and that was without proper training. Imagine what he would be with training! Piemur lost himself in dreams of days gone by, and of days to come.

* * *

Sorry, kind of shortish. Will update soon!


	8. The Dolphin Hall

Pern's not mine. You'd think that one would be obvious by now...

* * *

Since finally reaching the Dolphin Hall three days ago, Dioron felt he had not slept a wink, but he didn't mind, because every minute of the day was filled with something new and exciting. Still, he felt he could not have survived his first days without Andy.

On the first day they had come off the ship, the apprentices had stood around awkwardly, no one bold enough to break the silence. Except Andy. She had been standing as quiet as anyone else, but suddenly, she came up to Dioron, stuck out her had, and said, "Hi. My name's Andy." Dioron had taken her hand and shaken it, saying, "I'm Dioron. It's nice to meet you." Everyone began following their example, and soon, all the introductions were complete.

"Everybody ready?" asked Readis, coming off the ship.

Andy voiced everyone's thought. "Ready for what, sir?" she asked.

He grinned. "To carry your baggage up to the Hall!" Everyone groaned, and Readis laughed. "It isn't far," he promised.

It wasn't very far, but it felt it as the tired apprentices forced themselves to drag their bags up the path from the docks to their new home. When they reached the top of the hill, they found themselves facing a tall stone cabin.

"Do we go in here?" asked Andy doubtfully.

"I suppose!" said Dioron much more cheerfully than he felt. He walked up to the door and knocked. Hearing no answer, he opened the door and walked in, where he stopped, shocked.

"You have got to come see this!" he said softly. The others joined him, and they too gasped at the sight before them. The cabin had two floors, and the bottom floor was open, with nothing in it except for a long table lined with chairs. The upper floor was more a balcony that ran all the way around but didn't meet in the middle, so from where he was standing, Dioron could see the skylight in the roof. There were numerous doors around the walls, and a piece of paper was stuck to each door.

"Shall we go up and see what the papers say?" Andy asked, breaking the silence. The others nodded silently and headed for the stairs at the back of the first floor. Within moments each apprentice was reading the various papers.

"Hey, this one has my name on it!" cried one boy from the third door.

"And this one has mine!" called a girl from the other side.

"They are your room assignments," called Readis from downstairs. Startled, the apprentices leaned over the chest-high railings to stare down at him. "Find your rooms, drop your bags, and presently a bell will ring to tell you dinner is ready."

As Dioron dropped his last bag in the room assigned to him, he heard the clang of a bell from downstairs. "Andy!" he called, poking his head out of the door. "Are you coming down for dinner?"

On the other side of the balcony, Andy popped her head out of her room and called back, "Be right there!" In a few moments they met up at the head of the stairs and raced down them for dinner.

They stopped, amazed, as their eyes met the feast laid out on the long table they had noticed on the way in. "Dig in!" said Readis, beaming. The hungry children needed no further invitation, and Dioron and the others were soon eating as fast as they could. After two sevendays living on salted fish and ship's biscuit, everyone was eager to sink their teeth into proper food again.

"After you have eaten," Readis said with a smile for their enthusiasm, "I will go over a few of the rules of the Dolphin Hall for new apprentices, and will tell you a bit about what you'll be doing here. Then you will all go to bed, as you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

He was right. Dioron and the others were roused at dawn to feed dolphins and write down the fish and weather reports the dolphins told the journeymen, who then dictated them to the apprentices. Then they had to write out messages containing the information and take them to one of the three journeymen with fire lizards, who sent them to the major Holds both North and South.

They had breakfast, and spent the morning doing chores around the Hall. The afternoon was devoted to lessons where they were taught underwater hand signals and bell sequences. But it was that evening that the moment Dioron had been waiting for for seven Turns finally arrived; the moment they made contact with the dolphins themselves.

The dolphins came in with the evening reports, and Master Merinka, the Hall's Healer, who had a thorough knowledge of both human and animal medicine, showed the apprentices the nasty bloodfish that attached themselves to the dolphins, and how to remove them with a belt knife.

After removing bloodfish from three of the pod, Master Merinka handed the apprentices over to Master Readis, who separated the apprentices into those who could swim and those who needed to learn. He sent those who couldn't swim away with another Master to another bay for lessons, then had the remaining eight draw numbers to swim with a dolphin. Dioron and Andy watched enviously as the lucky two slipped out of their clothes to reveal their bathing costumes underneath and were instructed on how to enter the water properly. Andy and Dioron had drawn seven and eight, and so it wouldn't be their turn for another three days.

On the morning of the fourth day, Dioron woke up and was seized by excitement. _I'm going to swim with a dolphin today!_ he thought to himself, trembling with excitement. He raced through his chores and lessons, and was scolded by Master Telos, their classroom teacher, for not paying attention when he was lecturing them on some of the many hand signals used for underwater communication.

"I'm sorry, sir! I'm just so excited about swimming with a dolphin tonight that I can't concentrate!" Dioron apologised, still nearly bouncing off his seat with excitement. Telos smiled, remembering his own first swim.

"Then I'll expect you to concentrate twice as hard during tomorrow's class," he said with a faint smile.

That evening, Dioron and Andy skipped dinner and went straight down to the bay to wait for Readis and the others. They spent the time practising signals with each other, and drawing pictures in the sand. Andy was just starting to build a sandcastle when Readis arrived with the other swimming apprentices.

"Now, I can see you two are eager to begin, so please enter the water as has been demonstrated," he said with a smile, slipping into the water himself. In the water, his slight limp was invisible. He waded over to the bell hanging from the end of the pier and called back to the apprentices, "What's the sequence for 'report'?"

"Two long bells, a short bell, and another long bell," chorused the children. Readis rang the sequence, and soon, over the noise of the waves, came the sound of the dolphins.

"Report! Report!" they clicked and squeaked as they came racing in. "Readis! And more calves to play with!" exclaimed some of the younger ones as they saw who was waiting.

"My name Booj," said a dolphin to Dioron, turning to the side to get a better look at him.

"My name is Dioron," Dioron replied, grinning at some of the leaps others were doing.

"Diron!" Booj squealed. "Diron! Play with me, Diron!"

"Let's play!" Dioron shouted gleefully, and taking a deep breath, dived under the water, Booj at his side. Andy and her new friend Dit were close behind them, and the four of them dived and swam and played for three hours until Readis called them back in.

"Goodbye, Booj! Goodbye, Dit!" the children called as they left the water, dripping but happy.

"Bye Diron! Bye Addy!" they called back, leaping away with the rest of the pod.

"It's good to see you two have made dolphin friends already," said Readis, eyeing them. "A lot of the apprentices we get are too nervous the first time they get in the water to do anything at all with a dolphin, let alone as much as you two did."

"Thank you, sir," said Andy. "I can't wait to get back into the water with Dit!"

Readis smiled. "You'll have another opportunity soon, but you'll have to wait until the rest of your classmates can swim confidently before we take you out of the bay."

* * *

Thanks for reading! 


	9. Diara

Sorry for the slight delay in the update; I realised that I have three exams this week and I haven't finished studying for any of them (even the one I have tomorrow!)

Anyway...

You all know how the disclaimer runs by now.

* * *

And so the Turns passed. While Mor, Drianne and Brek learned to play, make and compose for every instrument of the Harper craft, Dioron and Andy learned signals, anatomy and first aid, improved their swimming skills and swam out to sea with various dolphin pods, though Booj and Dit became their special partners and joined them whenever they swam.

Then one day, it all changed.

* * *

"Mor! Drianne! Where are you?" called Brek, running through the halls, searching for his friends. "I've got great news!"

He bounded up the stairs, and nearly crashed into Master Seth on the way up. "Sorry, sir!" Brek called over his shoulder.

"Slow down a bit!" Seth shouted. "You'll break your neck, racing up and down the stairs like that! Or someone else's," he added to himself, rubbing his neck as he continued down the stairs.

Brek burst into his dormitory, and found Drianne and Mor there, rehearsing an orchestra piece together. "What's up, Brek?" Mor asked, stilling the strings of his gitar. Now twelve, he had grown a lot, and was taller than Drianne. His long black hair was desperately in need of a trim, and he was forever brushing it back out of his eyes.

"You look as excited as you did that time you found that two-marker at the Gather," Drianne remarked, secretly amused.

"This is much more important than a two-marker!" he said excitedly. "I just got a message from Father saying that there's eggs on the Benden Hatching Ground, and riders from there are coming here on Search!"

Mor felt his heart leap into his throat. What child of Pern hadn't dreamed of riding one of the great dragons, and having one as a lifelong partner? "When are they coming?" he asked eagerly.

"They should be here within a sevenday," Brek replied. "I'll probably be Searched, but it would be so great if you two were Searched too! We could all be dragonriders together!"

"That would be great, but at the moment, I'm going to concentrate on becoming a Harper," said Drianne, turning back to her music. Like everyone else, she too dreamed of becoming a dragonrider, but being far more realistic than the boys, realised that she didn't have much chance of being Searched, so she would work towards a goal she _could _achieve. Apprentice harpers were far down the list to be near enough for the dragons to sense if they were worthy, so there was little chance she would be picked out.

"I hope they come really soon!" said Mor in excitement.

And they did. The very next day, half a wing of dragons landed in the courtyard, two by two, depositing their riders before taking off to give the next pair room to land. The five bronze, brown and green dragons settled on the fireheights, while the blue stayed in the courtyard, beside his rider and the wingleader.

"Brek! There are dragonriders outside!" whispered Mor, peering out the window during breakfast. "The blue is still down in the courtyard, and aren't they supposed to be sensitive to possible dragonriders?"

"Yep," said Brek, looking very smug. "Today will be my last day at the Hall."

"Don't be so sure of yourself!" Drianne snapped. Brek had talked non-stop about the Search since receiving the letter from F'nor, and she was sick of it. "They might ignore you completely!"

After breakfast, Brek stopped Mor in the hall. "I'll be Searched, won't I?" he asked, worry on his face.

"Of course you will," Mor reassured him. "You're the nephew of the most famous Weyrleaders ever!"

"But what if Drianne is right? What if I'm not chosen?"

"You will be, so stop worrying about it."

"You'll never know how much your confidence means to me, Mor," said Brek with a relieved sigh. He gave his friend a brief hug. "Now, we'd better get to class."

* * *

"It's so much duller around here without Brek, isn't it?" Mor remarked as he and Drianne strode along the upper corridor of the Hall one rainy morning. Their duties as journeyman and journeywoman left them little time for themselves, so the two of them cherished the little time they could spend together these days.

"You mean B'kennor," she corrected. Then she sighed. "I know what you mean though. Life is nearly boring without him."

It had been three Turns since Brek had left to stand as a candidate on the Hatching Ground, but Mor still remembered it like yesterday. How all the apprentices and younger journeymen and women were lined up in the courtyard, and how the blue had moved along the line, stopping every now and then for a second look. How Brek, standing next to him in the line, sighed with relief and joy as the blue's rider announced that he had been Searched, and the happy look on his face as he stepped forward. His own disappointment as he was passed by.

A Turn later, he and Drianne had walked the tables, and now spent most of their time with their assigned Masters. For Mor, that meant composing and playing with Master Domick, and for Drianne, it meant making instruments with Master Trigarty, for she had become very adept with her hands.

"He said he'll be coming to the Hall soon," said Drianne, breaking into Mor's thoughts. "He didn't say how soon though, and he usually does. It's a little odd."

Just then, a bell began to toll. Mor sighed. "That's ninth hour. I have to get back to Master Domick now, so I'll see you later."

"I've got to go back for my scarf; I've forgotten it again. Catch up with you later," Drianne called as Mor headed for the stairs.

Looking through the score in his hands rather than where he was going, Mor tripped over something sitting on one of the stairs. He threw out his hands to save himself, and he felt something crack as he crashed down the stairs and the pages of the score went everywhere.

"Oh, my goodness!" a female voice cried. "Are you all right?"

A girl who looked no older than sixteen was gazing worriedly down the stairs at him. Mor was instantly captivated by her large violet eyes, and the black hair that fell to her waist, and he felt his stomach begin to do flips. Spending time with all the older boys had introduced Mor to the world of girls sooner than he would have been otherwise, and he was experienced beyond his years in the matters of love. Many of the female apprentices had made eyes at him since he became a journeyman, but it was the first time he had ever returned the feeling.

"I think so," he called back, and started to manoeuvre in an attempt to stand, wincing at every movement. He sure would have a fine set of bruises!

"Don't stand up!" she cried in alarm, and began descending the stairs. "You took a couple of nasty knocks, and I want to make sure you didn't hurt yourself." She finished her descent, and crouched beside him where he lay across the bottom three steps. She examined his head, and sighed in relief. "It doesn't look like you suffered any damage to your head. Is everything else all right?"

She gave him a hand to stand up, and he swayed with dizziness as he stood and pain coursed through his right hand as it hit the banister. "Hold on, you're not very steady, are you?" she said, putting his arm over her shoulders. "I think I'd best take you to a proper Healer. I'm only a journeywoman, so I'd like to get you checked by a Master over at the Hall. Good grief!"

She had caught sight of his right hand, which had bone sticking through the skin and was bleeding everywhere. She stared at it, horrified, for a few moments, before saying, "I definitely need to take you to the Healer Hall now. I don't have the equipment necessary to fix that!"

She began talking as they started across the hall for the next flight of stairs. "My name is Diara, and I just came here from my home in Laro Hold, Telgar. I'm a journeywoman healer, and I've returned to the Hall to get my Mastery. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm Mor, Master Domick's journeyman. He's the Composition Master here at the Harper Hall," Mor replied, glad to have something else to think about. He had to resist the impulse to keep glancing at his hand to make sure it was still there. He couldn't feel it at all by now. "I'm originally from Fer Hold, in Tillek, but I've been at the Hall for about five Turns."

They soon reached the Healer's wing of the Hall, where Diara turned Mor over to the capable Master Pierjan, and his hand was set, splinted and bandaged within the hour. Diara stayed with him as he was treated, and so was still there when Master Domick burst into the room.

"Mordekai!" he thundered. "What have you done?"

Both Mor and Diara jumped in surprise. "I haven't done anything, sir!" Mor protested. "I only fell down the stairs!"

"And broke your hand!" Domick cried. "How are you supposed to continue to improve your musical skills when you cannot play?"

"My hand should be mended within two months, sir. Surely my music can wait for that long?"

"It shouldn't have to! It wouldn't have happened if you had been looking where you were going for once! And who is this young woman?" he asked, turning his formidable frown on Diara, who shrunk back a little.

"This is Journeywoman Diara, the Healer brought me to Master Pierjan for treatment when she judged my injury to be beyond her resources to mend," Mor said courteously, giving her a reassuring smile. Diara smiled back tentatively, still unsure of the angry Domick.

Domick's frown lessened. "At least one of you two has a bit of sense,' he grumbled. "Report to my study this afternoon at the fifteenth hour," he added to Mor, who nodded. Diara heaved a quiet sigh of relief as the door closed behind him.

"I'm dreadfully sorry I got you into such trouble. I shouldn't have left my bag on the stairs, but I just had to put it down for a moment," she said, turning towards Mor.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," he replied. "I'm left-handed, so I'll still be able to write. Master Domick will just have to halt my lessons for a while. He's not as fierce as he sounds."

"You're so brave standing up to him," she breathed. Suddenly, she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you around!" she said as she slipped off her chair and left, winking at him.

"Bye," he called as she closed the door. _I'm in love!_ he thought to himself.

* * *

Sorry if the time-skips confused anybody. 


	10. Telling Her

I have had a few reviews now asking me about Dioron, and Brek/B'kennor, and to them I say: I'm really sorry! I haven't written anything for them for a little while, because the story became Mor-centric without me noticing. As an apology, I intend to write side-stories covering their experiences, which will be posted as soon as I've written them (probably next week at the earliest).

Now, to do the disclaimer, I choose... Bankotsu from Inuyasha!

Bankotsu: Sheri-chan doesn't own any of this stuff she's writing about.

Sheri-chan: Except her OCs!

Bankotsu: Yeah, except whatever those are. If you attempt to sue her, my vengeance will know no bounds. Or something to that effect.

* * *

Over the next few days, Mor found a million ways to bump into Diara or find some excuse to talk to her. It would often only be a few moments, but any time at all with Diara was precious to Mor. 

"Have you told her how you feel?" Drianne asked over the midday meal four days after Mor broke his hand.

Mor put down his knife and dropped his face into his good hand. "I'm too scared to!" he said, his voice slightly muffled by the hand. "What if she doesn't feel the same way about me? I couldn't bear it!"

Later that day, Diara approached Mor in the corridor. "Hi, Mor," she said shyly.

"Hi, Diara," he replied, hoping his voice didn't tremble too much.

"Drianne told me that you had something you wanted to tell me," she explained.

Mentally, Mor cursed Drianne. He knew that she knew that he would never tell Diara of his own free will, so she had forced him into a situation where he had to tell her.

"Well…" he began awkwardly. "Well, you see, I…"

"Yes?" she asked.

"I… I think I love you," he said in a rush.

She smiled. "That's very fortunate, because I would hate to be in love with a man who didn't love me back."

x

"So, how did it go with Diara?" Drianne asked as she packed away her harp. It had become her prime instrument, and she always played it in ensembles.

"It went well, I suppose," Mor mumbled, bending over her case so she couldn't see his face.

"Did you tell her?" Drianne asked, a smile spreading across her face.

"Yes."

"And how did she react?"

"She told me that she loved me too, and then she kissed me," Mor said, blushing.

Drianne crowed. "I knew it!" she exclaimed. "She hasn't been able to keep her eyes off you since she arrived here! She even approached Master Domick and asked if you were taken!"

Mor's blush deepened. "What did he say?"

"Apparently he said that he didn't know, but he had noticed you acting lovestruck ever since she arrived."

Mor groaned. "Grandfather! You didn't have to say something like that!"

x

"Well, it looks like your hand has fully healed," said Pierjan with a smile.

Mor smiled too. "Does that mean I can have the bandages off?"

"Yes, I should say so. Just be very careful with it for the next few days. No heavy playing!" Pierjan said, wagging his finger under Mor's nose.

"All right, I promise, I promise!" said Mor, laughing.

Then Pierjan said something that puzzled him. "I must say, you have perfect timing. If you had to go and break your hand, you picked the best time to do it." He left the room wearing a grin, leaving a very confused boy behind him.

x

"What do you think he meant?" Mor asked Drianne over dinner. Diara had to eat in the Healer Hall with the other journeymen and women, so the two of them were alone.

Drianne puzzled over it for a moment, then shrugged and said, "No idea." Then she brightened. "I got a message from B'kennor this afternoon. He said he'll be coming here tomorrow!"

Mor brightened too. "That's great news!" he exclaimed. "Did he say what time?"

"No, but I imagine he'll be here at about the tenth hour. He never gets out of bed early if he can avoid it."

Mor laughed. "That's B'kennor, all right. I can't wait to see him again!"

x

Gradually, all noise in the Hall ceased as Master Sebell stood to get everyone's attention. He smiled slightly as everyone in the hall turned to look his way.

"My friends!" he called. "I am pleased to inform you all that tonight is the night that new journeymen and women will be announced. So, if Journeymen Callame and Lamadisi would be so kind, I believe that more chairs must be added to the oval table."

The twin journeymen stood and left the hall, soon returning with two chairs apiece. They left again, and brought back another three.

"Seven new journeymen, eh?" Drianne murmured to Mor. "They'll all be going to the Southern Continent, I wager. There are never enough harpers down there."

Sebell cleared his throat, and Drianne immediately fell silent. "The first new journeyman of the evening is… Journeyman Stadmore!"

There was a storm of applause and the traditional chant of "Walk, Stadmore, walk!" as the new journeyman, blushing faintly, was walked to his place at the oval table and given his new shoulder knots by a grinning Callame.

The other six were announced, and when the applause for the last grinning youth had died away, Sebell cleared his throat.

"I know you are all eager to get to rehearsals," he began. A groan went up, and he smiled. "But to your disappointment, I must delay them a moment or two longer. As all in this Hall know, it takes many skills to be a harper. There is, of course, the musical side of our craft, but there is the human side of it too. A harper must teach, true, but he, or she," with a quick smile for his spouse, "must not only understand what he teaches, but must also understand who he teaches. There is someone in this Hall tonight who has learned this, but has not yet been recognised for his achievement. So, I would ask you to come forward and be rewarded, Master…" He paused as the room drew a collective breath, waiting for him to announce the new Master. "Mordekai!" he finished.

There was dead silence for a moment, then a cheer began to swell until it shook the rafters, led by the younger apprentices whom Mor had taught.

Mor just sat there, his mouth gaping open. "What?" he finally gasped.

Drianne, a smile forming on her lips, said teasingly, "You've been made a Master, silly! Father has decided you're ready! Look, here comes Master Domick to escort you to the Masters table!"

Domick stopped by Mor, and beamed at him. "Get up, my boy," he said proudly, lifting the stunned boy to his feet. "You've made me and the rest of your family proud." He grabbed Mor in a bearhug, then nudged him towards the round table until Mor found his feet and began walking of his own accord.

"Walk, Mordekai, walk!" came the cheer, louder than before. Tears pouring down his face, Mordekai of Fer Hold in Tillek marched up to the Masters table of the Harper Hall to take his rightful place among the most powerful harpers in the world.

* * *

I know it's another point against him in the perfect column, but I couldn't resist. 


	11. Search

Sorry for the craziness of the last disclaimer; I was tired, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Anyway, this chapter's. Pern's not mine.

* * *

"Wake up, Mor, wake up!" a voice called in his ear. Mor groaned, both sounds only aggravating the pounding drum that was his head. Domick had proposed toast after toast to him last night, and he had been too polite to refuse. As a result, he had drunk entirely too much wine last night, and he and his head were paying the price now.

"You must get up, Mor! Bronze rider B'kennor is waiting for you in the courtyard!" Diara called, gently shaking him by the shoulder.

"B'kennor!" said Mor, quickly sitting up. He immediately wished he hadn't, and dived for the chamber pot at the end of his bed as dinner came back to haunt him. He heaved for a while as she rubbed his back, then gradually sat up, his shoulders shaking.

"I'll tell him you'll come down once you've had a quick wash, shall I?" she asked, a small grin on her face. From the look of it, Mor had quite a bad hangover. "I brought you my special hangover cure, too. I thought you might need it."

"Thanks," Mor said hoarsely. He carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed, then when he was sure they weren't going to drop off, he put his feet on the floor. Diara handed him a steaming cup, and he drank half of it in a gulp, realising from the smell that he probably didn't want to taste it. Almost immediately, he began to feel better, and downed the rest.

"Can you please pass me a clean blue shirt?" he asked Diara. "I want to be all in harper blue for my first day as a Master." Smiling, she put the neatly folded clothes on the end of his bed as he made his way to the washstand and splashed his face.

"I heard that you got your Mastery. Well done. I wish I'd been there. It would be so much nicer if the two Halls could eat together."

"Much nicer," Mor agreed. "How long has B'kennor been here? Does Drianne know?"

"Oh yes. She and B'kennor have been talking for half an hour, waiting for you to get up. I finally volunteered to come and get you. Of course, I didn't realise what a disgusting state you were in," she said with a smile.

"It wasn't exactly my fault," said Mor, his cheeks turning pink. "Master Domick kept proposing toasts, and I couldn't say no, could I? Anyway, I'll get dressed so we can go and see B'kennor."

Diara politely turned her back while Mor changed his pants, though she turned back to admire the rest of him. Their relationship hadn't progressed to the point where they were sleeping together, but looking was all right.

B'kennor was deep in conversation when he caught sight of a confident young man making his way down the stairs with the young woman he and Drianne had been talking to before on his arm. He frowned, then his mouth dropped open as he realised it was his old friend Mor.

Mor had grown in the three Turns since B'kennor had seen him last. He easily matched B'kennor's own height, and as he came to a stop in front of him, B'kennor realised with a shock that he actually surpassed it.

"Hello, bronze rider B'kennor. It's been a while," Mor said, mock serious.

B'kennor decided to act the same way. "Indeed it has been a long time, Journeyman…" He faltered. He had noticed the shoulder knots. "Master?" he asked incredulously. "You're already a Master?"

Mor nodded. "I walked the tables last night," he said proudly. "And as a result I woke up this morning feeling like my head was a drum!" he added with a groan.

B'kennor laughed, and leant forward to clasp forearms with him. "It's great to see you, Mor," he exclaimed.

"You too, Brek," Mor said warmly. "What brings you to the Hall this early in the morning?"

B'kennor gestured to the dragons on the fireheights and the blue in the courtyard. "My wingleader decided to come here." His face grew serious. "Ramoth has a clutch on the Ground."

Mor's breath caught. "You mean…" he began.

"Yes," said B'kennor with a faint smile on his face. "We ride in Search."

x

Just then, the main doors opened, and Master Sebell came out. "I have assembled all the apprentices and younger journeymen, Wingleader N'mek," he called. He turned back towards the hall and called, "Outside, please, everyone. Form a single line across the courtyard."

All the apprentices from the Harper and Healer Halls, and several of the younger journeymen quietly marched out of the building and made a line stretching unevenly across the square.

"OK, Quaranth, let's have a look," said the blue rider, looking up at him fondly. The blue snorted, and began to move along the line, occasionally pausing to converse with his rider.

"That's M'nom," B'kennor whispered in Mor's ear. "His Quaranth is one of the best Search dragons we have."

Mor nodded, not wanting to take his eyes of the scene in front of him. The blue had picked two boys and a girl from the crowd, and had nearly reached the end. Selecting one more boy from amongst the journeymen, he turned towards N'mek and dipped his wings in a salute while his rider bowed.

N'mek nodded, and raised his voice. "These four have been found worthy of Search. Will all accept?" The four nodded, not believing their luck. "Then come here, and we'll take you back to the Weyr. B'kennor! We're going!"

B'kennor shrugged. "Nice to meet you," he said to Diara, "and nice to see you guys again too," he added, shaking hands with Mor and giving Drianne a brief hug.

"We'll come over and see you off," Drianne said as they walked over with him.

"Thanks, guys," he said, as his bronze landed in the courtyard next to him. Everyone shielded their eyes from the dust he caused.

"Happy flying, B'kennor," Mor said quietly as B'kennor mounted. Suddenly, he found himself pushed up against the bronze's smooth hide as he was pushed from behind.

"Quaranth! Stop that immediately!" came a voice from somewhere behind him. The pressure was withdrawn, and Mor turned to find himself reflected in an eye bigger than he was.

"Are you all right, sir?" came the voice again. "Sir?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Mor murmured, hypnotised by the dragon's stare. He shook himself, breaking the spell, and turned to face the worried rider, ignoring another nudge from the blue.

"Quaranth! Leave him alone! I'm dreadfully sorry about all this, Master Harper, he doesn't usually act this way," M'nom apologised. "What?" His eyes became unfocused, and he appeared to be listening to something. "What do you mean? He's too old! Begging your pardon, Master Harper," he added.

"Too old for what?" Mor asked, bemused.

"Too old to be Searched, sir. Quaranth says that you're worthy of Search," M'nom explained.

Hope grew in Mor's chest, until he felt he was suffocating. "What is an acceptable age for Search, Rider M'nom?"

Sensing his excitement, Drianne shifted. Of all the people at the Harper Hall, only she (apart from Mor himself) knew that he was only fifteen, not seventeen as everyone believed. She also knew that he now faced a difficult choice. The oldest acceptable age for Search was fifteen, so Mor would either have to confess to lying about his age for five Turns, or let the chance of a lifetime slip through his fingers. Very few were offered the chance to become a dragonrider, and even fewer actually succeeded, though every Pernese child dreamed of being Searched.

To Drianne's eyes, Mor appeared to stand motionless upon hearing M'nom's reply, barely breathing. She knew, however, that his mind would be whirling. Finally, he sighed.

"If fifteen is the oldest acceptable age, Rider M'nom, then I am very sorry to tell you that I am unacceptable, having celebrated my seventeenth birthing day but a month ago."

"I am very sorry to hear that, Master Harper. It is a shame you were not found earlier," M'nom said gently.

* * *

Next chapter will be up soon!


	12. The Truth Comes Out

Ta da! New chapter! Updates should be a little more frequent from now, because exams are over (well, from tomorrow). So I can spend the winter huddled up in a blanket in front of the computer typing. Yay!

Now, on with the show. Alas that the stage is not mine...

* * *

Suddenly, there came a booming laugh from above. "Mor, you silly old thing! Does your Mastery mean more to you than the chance to ride a dragon?" B'kennor cried, sliding down his dragon's shoulder. He landed next to Mor, and flung an arm around his shoulders. "M'nom, Master Mordekai will be returning to the Weyr with us."

"But he said that he was seventeen. Just because you are the Weyrleaders' nephew and the Wingleader's brother, it doesn't mean that you get your own way…" M'nom began.

B'kennor laughed again. "My family has nothing to do with this. What does is young Mor's lies."

"Lies?" asked Diara. "What lies?"

"Master Mordekai here isn't seventeen at all. He lied about his age to get into the Harper Hall. He's only fifteen."

"_Fifteen?_" M'nom and Diara said together, incredulously. "_Fifteen?_"

Mor reddened. "_I_ did not lie about my age," he mumbled sullenly. "Drianne did. It was her idea."

"What was Drianne's idea?" asked a pleasant voice. Sebell had come up behind them and had heard the last sentence. "Wingleader N'mek was wondering what was causing the delay."

M'nom gestured to Mor. "We're trying to decide if he is acceptable to Search, Master Sebell."

Sebell frowned, though there was a twinkle in his eye. "Acceptable to Search? You wish to take my newest Master away?" Then a look of puzzlement crossed his face. "Isn't Benden's eldest acceptable age fifteen?"

"Yes, sir. That's what the problem is. He says he's seventeen, but B'kennor here claims that he's only fifteen," M'nom explained.

"Hmm. Drianne, you have known Mor longer than the rest of us here. How old is he?"

Drianne sighed. Now the decision was hers to make. "He is fifteen, Father," she said, looking Sebell in the eye and ignoring Mor's pleading expression. _I had to, Mor,_ she thought desperately. _Though I know I'll lose you and be punished, I can't let you miss this chance._ "When I asked you to sponsor him, I only told you that he couldn't come to the Hall. I neglected to mention that the reason was that he was too young. He was ten at the time."

"Ten? Why, Drianne? Why did you ask me to sponsor him when you knew he was too young?" Sebell asked.

"Because he was heartbroken when his brother and I applied to be apprentices and he knew that he couldn't. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I will accept the consequences of my actions," she sighed, resigning herself to her punishment.

To her surprise, Sebell smiled. "Drianne, you will face no punishment for this. By your actions, you have proved the point that I have been trying to get across to the masters for quite some time; that we should accept younger apprentices. The younger a child is when learning, the better they learn. Mor has proved this by keeping up with and surpassing his classmates despite being two Turns younger than them. I should be thanking you, not punishing you!"

As Sebell laughed, Mor felt his heart leap. He no longer had to lie about his age, and feel guilty every time he repeated the lie. He was finally free of the heavy burden his secret had become without having to worry about being caught. But best of all, he wouldn't be stripped of the mastery he had worked so hard to attain.

"So, Master Mordekai, it is your choice. Will you accept the honour of being Searched?" Sebell asked, a smile on his face.

Mor made a face. "Of course I will, sir! Who wouldn't?" he cried. Everyone burst into laughter as Mor scrambled over to N'mek to tell him that there would be one more candidate returning to the Weyr with the wing.

x

Drianne sighed as she watched the dragons take off. She may have done the right thing, but she was still losing her best friend. It was just as hard letting B'kennor go, for while Mor was her best friend, B'kennor was her first love. She had secretly hoped that she would be Searched so she could go with B'kennor, but it hadn't happened, so now she would lose both.

"You'll see them again," a voice whispered in her ear.

"I hope so, Father," she replied, turning around. He held out his arms, and Drianne buried her face in his chest and wept for the friends she had lost.

x

"It's brilliant!" Mor cried as they circled over Benden Weyr's bowl.

B'kennor chuckled. "Wait until you see a bit more of it!" he called back over the rush of the wind. "Let's head for our weyr, Dioanth!"

The bronze bugled, and swerved towards the northern wall of the bowl. Mor was certain they were going to slam into it, and was about to scream when Dioanth backwinged and landed on a clawed ledge leading into a cave about a third of the way up the wall.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Mor," B'kennor said, gesturing towards the dragon couch and living quarters carved out of the cliff. "You can stay here with me until Hatching. I'll ask Manora if I can borrow a pallet for you to sleep on."

The boys spent the rest of the day catching up on each other's news, until the bell was rung for the evening meal. B'kennor rubbed his hands together eagerly.

"Food!" he crowed. "Old Silvina may cook well, but not as well as Manora! You haven't tasted anything until you've eaten her cooking! Come on!"

He raced to the back of the weyr, and began descending a flight of stairs almost hidden in shadows. "There's no point bothering Dioanth for such a short trip," he called back to Mor.

Mor grinned, and followed him down. Only B'kennor, who loved to run, would consider a trip like that short.

Dinner was everything B'kennor said it would be, so it was quite a while before Mor noticed that B'kennor paid more attention to the redheaded girl down the other end of the table than to his meal.

"What's her name?" Mor asked, helping himself to more of the roasted runner beast.

B'kennor shook himself. "Hmm?"

"Her name," Mor repeated patiently.

"Whose name?" he demanded.

Mor sighed. "That redheaded girl down the end of the table that you've been staring at all night, dimglow."

B'kennor mouth dropped open. Then he smiled. "No fooling you, is there?" he remarked. Then he sighed. "That's Riasa. She's a green rider in B'thor's wing. I love her, but…"

"But you're too scared to tell her so," Mor finished.

B'kennor gaped. "How… how did you know?" he gasped.

Mor waved his fork at him. "I went through the same thing with Diara," he explained, hurriedly trying to swallow his mouthful. It went down the wrong way, and he began to choke. B'kennor thumped him on the back until he stopped, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Thanks," he croaked. "Anyway, the only reason I told Diara I loved her was that Drianne told her that I had something to tell her. I never would have told her otherwise."

"Well, if you try that trick here, I'll break your nose," B'kennor threatened, an amused twinkle in his eye betraying him. Mor immediately decided to do just that. _It'll be good for him_, he thought.

"So, how long have you been with Diara?" B'kennor asked, interrupting Mor's plans. That led to a conversation that distracted both of them until the end of the meal. That night, Mor was so tired from his eventful day and the previous night that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

See you soon! 


	13. Hatching

Yay, I'm free! No more classes until the end of July! Now I just have to go research vampires...

Today's disclaimer is brought to you by... the strange person singing to themselves on the tram! Oops, that's me...

* * *

At first he thought he was still dreaming, but the rock continued to throb beneath his cheek. Mor sat up, his blankets in disarray. His cheek bore an imprint where it had slipped off the pillow and onto the floor during the night, and his hair stuck out at every angle. 

"B'kennor?" he called. He was answered by a groan. "Should the floor shake like this?"

"Wassat?" came a sleepy reply. B'kennor's tousled head emerged from the pile of blankets on the bed. "Shaking?"

"It's almost like it's humming," said Mor, pressing an ear to it.

"Humming!" B'kennor gasped. "Like dragons humming?"

"How should I know? I've never heard…" Mor trailed off. His eyes widened. The sound grew louder and louder, and from below they could hear excited shouting.

"Hatching!" the boys exclaimed together. They scrambled out of their blankets, and fought over who got the bathroom first. B'kennor won, and had scrubbed himself clean nearly before Mor could blink. Mor dashed in, and gave his face a quick splash. Through the noise of the water, he could hear B'kennor saying something, but he couldn't make out the individual words.

"What was all that, Brek?" he asked, drying his face.

"I said, dimglow, that you need to change into this robe and I was giving you instruction about Impression," B'kennor said with an exasperated fondness, throwing a white robe at Mor as he emerged from the bathroom.

Mor pulled it over his head, suddenly feeling nervous. "What do I have to do?" he squeaked.

"First of all, you mustn't show any fear. You need to think loving thoughts to attract a dragon to you. Yes, I know it sounds silly, but that's how it works," B'kennor said, noticing the incredulous look on Mor's face. "Then, if you're lucky enough to Impress, the weyrling master will take over from there. That's about it really."

"All right, Dioanth, let's go!" B'kennor cried, leaping onto the bronze's foot. Mor hurriedly joined him on the other side, then barely suppressed a yelp as the bronze fell off the ledge and swooped up to enter the Hatching Ground through a large hole high in the wall. Below him, Mor could see the eggs, scattered randomly across the Ground, except for a larger golden one that the great queen Ramoth hovered protectively over. He could also see the other candidates, dressed as he was, standing on the sands, uncomfortably easing from foot to foot.

"We call that the Dance of the Hatching Sands," B'kennor called, his voice pitched to reach Mor's ears alone. Mor chuckled.

People from every style of life and everywhere on Pern lined the tiers surrounding the sands, and Mor could even see B'kennor's parents sitting together in the lowest tier. Far above them, dragons were ranged along the topmost tier, their rainbow eyes fixed on the scene below them and deep hums coming from their throats. Mor's wonder was diverted from these beautiful creatures by a cracking sound coming from below.

"Shards! The eggs have started to hatch!" cried B'kennor in alarm. "Best of luck, Mor!"

Dioanth dived down low enough for Mor to jump from the bronze's foot and land on the sand. He gave them a quick wave, took a deep breath, and turned to face the greatest challenge of his young life.

B'kennor had dropped him on the outer edge of the sands, so Mor had a wonderful view of the other candidates. Already, two dragons had hatched, a bronze and a blue. They stumbled about, creeling, their still-wet wings awkwardly flapping behind them. The male candidates cautiously took a few steps towards them, and the creeling changed to cries of delight as the two dragons flung themselves on nearby boys.

Then, as the other eggs started to crack, Mor turned his eyes to the queen egg, which had given an almighty rock and neatly split in two. The young queen gazed imperiously about her, but her image of dignity was ruined when she tripped over her shell. Three of the girls rushed forward to help her up, then the one on the left sighed happily. "Oh, Chrisath! You're so beautiful!" she sighed, hugging the queen.

Mor was so absorbed in the blissful expression on her face that he failed to realise that the other dragons had all paired off and the successful candidates were leaving with their new partners, tears of joy drying on their faces, while the unsuccessful ones' tears were still flowing.

"Why do the candidates leave the Ground?" someone demanded. Mor jumped and turned to face the speaker. To his amazement, he realised it was F'lar. "An unpaired dragon remains on the Ground, so why are the candidates leaving?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, but he doesn't want any of us," said one of the boys near the entrance with a bow. Mor recognised him as Tirly, an apprentice he had taught. "He looked us all over, but didn't approve of anyone. He walked right over my poor Dareth," indicating his new dragon, "looking for someone, but he didn't find them."

"He doesn't want anyone on the Ground, or in the tiers. But there are no candidates absent, and no one else has had contact with the eggs," Mor heard Lessa murmur softly. "Who is he waiting for?"

Suddenly, the little bronze who was the object of the discussion gave a glad cry and dove towards Mor, who was still standing in the shadows at the edge. Mor's eyes widened in shock as the baby dragon landed on him and began walking all over him, crooning.

"Master Mordekai! Are you all right?" Tirly cried, rushing over. "Leave him alone!" he told the dragon, trying to pull him off.

Tyrith grumbled. _I don't intend to leave him alone. I only just found him!_ he protested. _Nobody's telling Dareth to leave you alone!_

_But you're hurting him,_ Dareth pointed out. _Your partner won't be very happy with you if you leave claw marks on him! I know I'm not happy with you,_ he said disapprovingly, examining the claw marks Tyrith had left on his back and wings.

Still grumbling, Tyrith got off, allowing Mor to sit up and gasp. Even if he had had breath, he didn't think he'd be able to talk because of the shock of hearing the dragons converse in his mind.

"Master Mordekai! Are you all right?" Tirly asked anxiously, helping him to his feet. "Oh, sir, please say something!"

Mor finally remembered how to use his mouth again and gasped, "I'm all right, Tirly. Just a little scratched."

"Scratched? You're bleeding everywhere, sir! And your robe is ruined!" Tirly exclaimed in horror, watching his favourite teacher drip blood onto the sand.

"Just give me some time and Diar… a healer, and I'll be fine," Mor reassured him.

_Did I hurt you?_ Tyrith asked, worry colouring his tone.

_I'll be all right. Just… try not to do it again, OK? _Mor replied amusedly, trying to hide his pain.

"Are you all right?" a new voice asked. Mor looked up to find the Weyrleaders watching him. "Dragon claws can be sharp, even straight after birth."

"I'll be all right, Weyrleaders," said Mor, sketching a bow and nearly overbalancing. He was beginning to feel a little dizzy. "I thank you for your concern. I've already ensured that Tyrith won't do it again."

"So that's this little one's name, is it? Congratulations, Mordekai and Tyrith, and to you too, Tirly and Dareth, on your Impression. Mordekai, I suggest that you report to our healer immediately," said Lessa with a faint smile. "Master Menolly has offered to help you there, as you appear to be incapable of walking that far at the moment."

Menolly grinned at her as she vaulted the wall onto the sands, then turned that grin on Mor. "I see you've abandoned us for the glamour of dragonriding, Mor," she laughed. "Hasn't done you much good so far, has it?" she added, appraising his scratches.

"Are you a harper, Mordekai?" asked Lessa, interested. "I thought I heard Tirly call you 'Master'. Our Weyrsinger recently retired to the warm Southern beaches, and we find ourselves without a teacher for our young ones. I meant to talk the subject over with you today, Menolly," she added, glancing at Menolly, "but now it appears I don't need to. Would you be willing to take on the duties of Weyrsinger as well as those of a normal dragonrider?"

"My lady, I would be honoured," Mor said solemnly, bowing to her again. This time, he did lose his balance, and Menolly was forced to catch him as he fell.

"Off to the healer with you, kid," she said, heaving him over her shoulder. "Coming?" she asked Tyrith, who nodded and followed her as she walked out of the Ground and across the bowl to the healer's quarters, the unconscious Mor hanging down her back.

x

"Was it a good idea to ask a _boy_ to be our Weyrsinger?" F'lar asked softly, resting a hand on his weyrmate's shoulder.

"I've heard a great deal about him from Sebell and Menolly," she replied, absently rubbing her cheek on his hand. "They say that he has an excellent memory, is good at teaching, is brilliant on any instrument he picks up, and in many ways, reminds them both of Robinton."

"Hopefully, Mordekai will be just as wonderful as Robinton would have been, despite his youth," F'lar said.

"Hopefully," Lessa echoed, leaning into him. They enjoyed the contact for a moment, then Lessa sighed. "I suppose we have to go and comfort the disappointed. I hate doing that."

"It will be over soon," said F'lar consolingly, and kissed her before they both walked to the entrance to join the festivities.

* * *

Will update tomorrow! 


	14. M'kai's First Day

Here we go again! If you haven't figured out by now that Pern isn't mine, you should probably seek help...

* * *

There was one person who did not join the feast that night. After the Weyr's healer stitched him up, Mor spent the night in a peaceful sleep, one hand falling from the bed to rest on Tyrith's back as he slept.

The fellis he had been given wore off about noon, and he slowly opened his eyes, wondering where he was. On the hand that was hanging down the side of the bed, he could feel a warm breeze that seemed to blow intermittently. From the floor on that side, he heard a sigh, and realised from the presence in his mind that it was Tyrith. Memory flooded back, and he realised that he was ravenously hungry. Part of that hunger came from the bronze lump on his floor.

"Tyrith?" he called hesitantly, not wanting to wake the obviously tired dragon, but needing to reassure himself that his memory wasn't playing tricks. "Are you awake?"

_You're awake!_ came the joyful reply, and Mor found himself being thoroughly licked by a rough dragon tongue as Tyrith leapt up on the bed and greeted him.

"Yes, I'm awake! Now please, stop licking! Your tongue hurts!" Mor laughed.

The little dragon immediately backed off and sat on his haunches near Mor's feet. _You worried me,_ he explained. _I could sense that you were hurt, and I was terrified. I remember Mother ordering me to stay still and a female forced me to drink something, then I woke up to find you awake too! Can we get some food now? _The dragon's tone was wistful. _I'm really rather hungry._

Mor laughed. "Of course we can get some food. Do you know where the kitchens are?"

"Hello?" called a voice. "Are you awake?"

"Yes!" Mor called back. "And starving! Is there anywhere we could get some food?"

"I'll send down to the kitchens," replied the voice. "Food for two and a baby dragon, please," the voice called, producing a strange echo. Mor heard no reply, but the voice seemed satisfied, so he supposed everything was all right.

"Now, let's have a look at your new scar collection," said the voice, coming through a doorway covered by hanging cloth. Mor found himself face to face with a woman who wouldn't quite reach his shoulder had he been standing. She had short blond hair, brown eyes, and a light dusting of freckles across her nose.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked, coming over and placing her hand on his forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever."

"I feel perfectly fine, thank you," he hastily assured her. "A little tender, perhaps, but nothing that time will not cure."

She smiled. "I'll believe that when I see it," she said, wagging a finger under his nose. "You wouldn't believe the amount of riders that tell me they're all right and come back at the end of Fall twice as bad as they were originally. Now, shirt off, and I'll have a look at those claw marks."

"_Dragonmen must fly/When Thread is in the sky_," Mor quoted thoughtfully, stripping his shirt off.

She grinned at him. "The number of times I've had that spouted at me…" she sighed theatrically. Then her face grew serious. "You're to be the new Weyrsinger, aren't you?" she asked. Then the grin came back. "I suppose you have the right to spout it, then." They both laughed.

Suddenly, there came a rumble from the next room. "That will be the food," she said, still inspecting the cuts, some of which were quite deep. "I'll just smear some numbweed on these, then we can eat."

She briefly disappeared into the other room, and came back with a tray balanced on one hand and a jar in the other. She unscrewed the lid of the jar and spread a green paste onto the cuts, which instantly went cool and stopped itching, which Mor was very grateful for.

He reached for the tray, and served them both, but politely waited until she had begun before he did. He placed the bowl of meat scraps that had been sent for Tyrith on the floor, and turned back to his own meal as the little bronze dove onto the meat and began stuffing his mouth so fast that he choked, and Mor had to tell him off. He kept a slight mental hold on Tyrith for the rest of the meal, and was pleased to see him slow the rate of his gobbling to a safer pace.

"You're good with him," the woman remarked. "Most new riders take a few meals to find the right balance that lets them eat as they want but not choke themselves in the process. I know I did."

"Try teaching apprentices who are eager to learn to play music but aren't willing to learn the theory behind it," he replied absently, watching Tyrith eat. "You soon learn to balance things so they don't get bored with the basics but they don't rush ahead without you."

She laughed. "I guess not many people have that kind of experience when they first Impress," she said, glancing sideways at him. _He seems so much older than fifteen,_ she thought, not knowing his past.

Tyrith suddenly gave a burp, and fell asleep. "When will he do anything apart from eat and sleep?" Mor asked.

"Don't worry. He'll soon outgrow that, then you'll get to come and fight Thread with us," she laughed.

Suddenly, a voice from the doorway to the stairs called, "Master Mordekai? Master Mordekai? Are you awake yet?"

"Yes!" Mor called back, but quietly, so as not to wake Tyrith. "That sounds like Tirly. I suppose he's checking on me after the events of yesterday." He grimaced.

"You mean T'car," she pointed out.

"Pardon?" he asked, confused.

"It was how he decided to shorten his name. His full name is Tirlecar, so he shortened it to T'car," she explained. "How will you shorten yours?"

Mor thought about it for a moment. "I don't know," he said at last. "What do you suggest?"

"Hmm, Mordekai." She turned the name over in her mind for a few seconds before speaking. "How about M'kai?" she suggested at last. "It's probably what I'd choose."

"M'kai it is then," said the newly christened M'kai. He smiled. Then he laughed. "I've just realised something," he gasped. "You know who _I_ am, and have even chosen my name, but I have no idea who _you _are."

She began to laugh too, for M'kai's laugh was very infectious. "I am Kirsty, rider of green Aredath. I'm part of K'tim's wing, and I must be getting back to it. Goodbye, Weyrsinger M'kai," she said with a gentle smile, rising. "I'll see you around." And with that she left, passing a flustered T'car on her way out.

"Hello, T'car. How are you and Dareth settling in?" M'kai asked, reaching for a redfruit.

"Fine," said T'car, skidding to a halt. "Just fine. How are you feeling today, Master Mordekai?"

Mor winced. He hated people using his full name; it always sounded far too formal. Then he remembered. "I'm just M'kai now," he explained. "Or if you _must_ be formal, Weyrsinger."

"Very well… M'kai," said T'car, suppressing a grin. He had noticed during class Mor's dislike of formality, and indeed, Mor's classes had always referred to him as Mor when out of earshot of the other masters and journeymen.

"And if you call me 'Master', I'll cut off your ears," M'kai added jokingly.

"Oh no, sir, not my ears!" T'car said with a laugh.

"So, what have I missed during my little sleep? M'kai asked, reaching for some bread. "And the ear thing goes for 'sir', too."

"Well, there was the feast last night, then this morning, we all got taught how to let our dragons eat without choking. Though most of us need some practise at that," T'car replied ruefully, remembering his own efforts.

"Right. I've already got that one, I think. Anything else?" M'kai asked.

"We have chores all afternoon, but I'll come back when I've finished," T'car promised. "Will you be coming down for the evening meal?"

M'kai nodded. "I assume so. Why? So bored with your new companions already that you want to hang around a teacher?"

T'car laughed. "Of course not. It's just that it's nice to see a familiar face."

"Do we weyrlings have to sit off on our own?" M'kai asked, thinking of B'kennor and Kirsty.

"Well, not really, but we seem to gather together anyway," he replied.

x

T'car kept his promise, though by the time he returned, the sun had already set, and M'kai was eager for human company. Kirsty hadn't come back, and M'kai found it maddening to stay in one place and do nothing, but a trip to use the facility had shown him how weak he was, and he had no desire to fall flat on his face trying to get down the stairs. He had spent the afternoon talking with Tyrith (when he was awake), and had mastered the art of mind-speaking, though every so often, traces of other conversations would filter through. He was very glad to see T'car return.

As they were about to begin talking, a bell began to ring somewhere below them.

"Time to eat!" said T'car, licking his lips in anticipation. "Let's hurry, so there's some left when we arrive!"

M'kai laughed. "Lead on, my friend!" he cried.

Together, they hurried down the stairs, and despite M'kai's slower-than-normal pace, they were in plenty of time for dinner, and in plenty of time to get an enthusiastic greeting from B'kennor.

"Let go, B'kennor, you'll break my ribs!" M'kai laughed, only half-joking.

"Oh, Mor, I've been so worried about you!" B'kennor exclaimed, releasing his friend from the bearhug he had been engulfed in as soon as he arrived. "I checked on you half a dozen times this morning, but you didn't stir."

"I only woke up at noon," M'kai explained. "And it's M'kai now, not Mor."

B'kennor laughed. "I wondered how long it would take you to shorten your name."

"Well, Kirsty helped me," M'kai retorted.

B'kennor, however, had been distracted by the entrance of the food. "Quick, let's grab seats!" he exclaimed. The three of them took seats at a nearby table as the head table, where the Weyrleaders sat, was served.

"So, who are you?" B'kennor asked T'car. "One of the new riders?"

"Yes, sir," stammered T'car, awed at being picked out by a more senior dragonrider. "I'm T'car, rider of blue Dareth."

"Very pleased to meet you, T'car," B'kennor replied, shaking his hand. "I'm B'kennor, rider of bronze Dioanth."

"T'car, what did I say about 'sir'? It goes for all dragonriders, not just me," M'kai laughed.

T'car clapped his hands over his ears with a grin, and M'kai explained to a puzzled B'kennor. B'kennor began to roar with laughter, and other riders within earshot began to smile.

Suddenly, a gold fire-lizard came streaking into the dining hall, and circled a few times before diving down to hover near M'kai.

"Hey, isn't that Menolly's Beauty?" B'kennor asked, recognition dawning in his eyes.

Startled, M'kai nodded and held out a hand, and she perched on it, offering a slim leg to him. He took the message capsule from it, and broke the seal to read it.

"What does it say?" asked B'kennor, peering over his shoulder to get a look.

"It's a message from Grandfather via Menolly, asking if I'm all right," M'kai replied. "Do you have a pen I can borrow?"

B'kennor silently produced one, and M'kai scribbled a reply on the back. Beauty held out her leg for M'kai to reattach the paper, then zoomed out again.

"What did you say?" B'kennor asked, watching the queen as she flicked out of sight.

"Just that I'm fine, and to tell Grandfather not to worry," replied M'kai, turning back to his meal.

The rest of the meal was uneventful, but it seemed to M'kai, who hadn't fully recovered, to last for hours. When everyone had finished, he was forced to ask B'kennor to help him back to his quarters, and had to endure the scolding this brought. As soon as M'kai's head hit the pillow, he was fast asleep.

* * *

Reviews are welcome... 


	15. A Weyrsinger's Duties

Pern's not mine.

* * *

The sound of dragons bugling woke M'kai at dawn, and being by nature an early riser, he took this as an invitation to get up and move about. The night's sleep seemed to have fully restored him, and he decided to go exploring and discover the secrets of his new home.

By the time the sun had fully risen and there were others awake, M'kai had been through the Lower Caverns, the Hatching Ground and a few of the old rooms hidden at the back of the Weyr. He resolved to look through the others at the first opportunity, then headed back to his quarters, for he could sense the newly-awakened Tyrith's hunger.

"I'm coming, Tyrith, I'm coming!" he called as his long legs ate up the steps.

_Good,_ came a disgruntled reply. _There's a man here who's collecting all your things. Dioanth says that he is a friend. Otherwise I would have called you._

_Thank you, Tyrith. B'kennor is indeed a friend, _M'kai replied, coming to a halt at the head of the stairs. "Need a hand, B'kennor?" he called as he entered the room.

B'kennor jumped. "I was just getting your things. You're being moved into your own weyr. You're still in the sickroom at the moment," he called over his shoulder. He then stuck his tongue out at M'kai, to pay him back for the scare.

"I'll give you a hand," said M'kai, coming over and picking up a stack of shirts. "I didn't bring this much stuff with me, did I?" he asked.

B'kennor shook his head. "The Harper Hall watch-dragon arrived this morning with most of it. Seems Diara organised through Menolly for it to be brought to you. She sent your gitar and pipe collection, too."

The boys loaded everything into two big baskets, and with Dioanth's help, they were lifted up three levels to a cave similar to B'kennor's. It was divided into two sections; sleeping quarters for Tyrith, with a stone couch that would accommodate a fully-grown dragon, and living quarters for M'kai, complete with a pool of steaming hot water in the back.

"It's brilliant!" M'kai whispered in astonishment as he surveyed his new home.

"You'll get used to it," said B'kennor with a smile for M'kai's awestruck face.

"Not for a while, I hope!" he replied with a grin.

x

_Ramoth's rider is at the bottom of the steps,_ Tyrith suddenly announced.

_Thanks, Tyrith,_ M'kai replied silently.

"Apparently Lessa is coming, so I'd better go and see what she wants," he told B'kennor. "You definitely don't keep the most important woman on Pern waiting!"

"Especially not when she has a temper like hers!" B'kennor laughed.

"I heard that, B'kennor," Lessa called as she came up the stairs.

"Oops!" he murmured to M'kai, who stifled a laugh.

"Exactly," she said as she came into view. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, though there was a twinkle in her eye. "Off with you! I need to speak to the Weyrsinger."

"Weyrwoman," B'kennor said with a small bow. "See you around, M'kai," he called over his shoulder as he descended the stairs two at a time.

Lessa watched him, and when she was sure he was out of sight, allowed herself a small chuckle. "He has certainly brightened this place up since he arrived. Too many of the people I meet have no sense of humour."

"The Harper Hall was nowhere near as interesting once he left," M'kai said with a straight face.

They both laughed, then as the laughter died away, Lessa remembered why she had come up. "What I came up to speak to you about is your duties as Weyrsinger. Every morning, except when Fall is expected, you will hold class in the Weyrling Hall and teach the youngsters of the Lower Caverns how to read, write and reckon, and all the other lessons harpers teach the young. You will be expected to entertain when we have guests, which I must warn you is often, and we may ask you to play at dinner occasionally. You have our permission to train anyone you think able to play with you, but you _aren't_ allowed to recruit for the Harper Hall!" she said, wagging a finger under his nose.

M'kai pretended to be offended. "As if I would, Weyrwoman!" he exclaimed mock indignantly.

The corners of her mouth twitched again, but she continued. "All these duties, of course, will be suspended during Fall when, for the moment, you will fill firestone sacks with the other weyrlings, but later fly. Patrols and the suchlike also take priority. And you are to address me as Lessa, not Weyrwoman. Any questions?"

"Just one. How soon is breakfast?" he asked. Now that his curiosity had been temporarily satisfied, he was starving! Tyrith's hunger wasn't helping, and he could feel faint shadows of hunger somewhere else too.

Lessa laughed again. "As soon as you go down and get some from the kitchens. You can get meat for Tyrith from the weyrling master, who'll probably be rousing the other weyrlings at the moment."

"Thank you, Lessa," he said cheerfully. "I'd better go and get something for both of us. Would you care to join us for breakfast?"

"No thanks. F'lar's expecting me. You two run along," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching again.

"Once we're fed, we'll have to find out where those hunger echoes are coming from, because they're driving me mad!" she heard M'kai say to Tyrith as they bounded down the stairs.

"'Hunger echoes'?" Lessa repeated, puzzled. "What does he mean by that?"

From the bowl below, she could 'hear' dragons waking and talking to their riders, while from where she knew the weyrlings slept, she could sense feelings of hunger, love and impatience amongst the stirring dragonets.

_He can hear them too?_ she thought in astonishment. _We'll have to investigate this._

Already turning the puzzle over in her mind, Lessa began the walk back to her weyr, where her beloved weyrmate and breakfast awaited her.

x

M'kai soon found his way to the weyrling barracks where, sure enough, the others were being unceremoniously hauled from their beds to start the new day.

"Morning, everyone!" M'kai called cheerfully, which produced a chorus of groans.

"It isn't morning yet!" T'car groaned from somewhere towards the back of the dorm.

"Oh, yes it is, my beauties!" growled a male voice from somewhere in his vicinity. "It's a beautiful morning, and it's my job to make sure you lot get up to enjoy it! This morning, we'll be going over the equipment riders use, and this afternoon, I'm going to supervise the lot of you as you attempt to make your own!"

The groans were louder this time. _He sounds like a runner-herder. Hope he doesn't mean it,_ M'kai thought as he moved deeper into the dorm, looking for the owner of the voice.

"And who are you, Mister Cheerful?" the voice exploded by his ear. "Think it's funny to be up and about before everyone else so you can be cheerful at them when they wake up?"

M'kai stared straight ahead and replied, "Yes, sir."

There was a chuckle by his ear, and M'kai allowed himself to relax, though he didn't let it show outwardly. Some teachers would pounce on something like that, and he didn't want to give him an opportunity.

"Nice to see at least _one_ of you lot has a sense of humour. Didn't see one smile or hear one laugh yesterday. Now, which one are you?"

"I'm M'kai, sir. I wasn't in training yesterday because I was still in the healer's quarters. Tyrith was… a little enthusiastic when we met," M'kai explained. "Whenever I'm in training though, I'll be glad to provide all the smiles and laughs you ask for."

"Ah, so you're the one who got injured. I'm D'renin, the weyrling master here at Benden. I suppose you'll be wanting food for… Tyrith, did you say?"

"Yes please, sir," said M'kai, following him out of the dorm and over to the side of the lake. "Then I believe I have a class to teach."

D'renin stopped in mid-stride. "A class?" he asked.

"I'm the new Weyrsinger," M'kai explained. "Lessa told me that I teach in the morning, then join the other weyrlings in the afternoon."

"Hmm, well, I suppose I'll have to write out the morning lessons and give them to you to study," he said, frowning slightly. "What's Lessa thinking of, having such a young Weyrsinger? No offence," he hastily added, glancing over at M'kai to see his reaction.

"None taken," he replied cheerfully. "Despite my youth, I achieved the rank of Master Harper before I left the Hall."

D'renin chuckled. "A Master? At your age? I think you're pulling my leg, boy!"

"I assure you that I am not 'pulling your leg', Rider D'renin," M'kai said stiffly. It hurt to have someone doubt his word, he realised. No one had had cause to do so for a very long time.

"I'm sorry, lad. It's just that it's unlikely," D'renin explained.

"Well, the Master Harpers Sebell and Menolly will vouch for me if you ask them."

"There's meat here for the hatchlings. They'll feed from here for a few sevendays, then they'll be taught to hunt their own," D'renin said, indicating a row of large barrels as he changed the subject. "One of the chores the weyrlings do is keep the barrels topped up."

x

After Tyrith had eaten, M'kai got a cup of klah and wandered over to the Weyrling Hall. To his surprise, there was already someone there. A young girl was going through a pile of music and placing it in racks on the wall. She jumped and turned when she heard M'kai's soft footfall.

"Hello," she said breathlessly, obviously nervous. "I was just sorting this music." She indicated the racks, which M'kai could now see were labelled with instrument names.

"What's your name?" M'kai asked with a kind smile.

"I'm Norekke," she squeaked.

"You're F'nor and Brekke's daughter, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes. How did you know that?" she asked, her eyes wide with amazement.

"You look just like your brother," he replied.

"Which one?" she asked.

"B'kennor," M'kai said with a small laugh. "I forgot that you have so many. He and I have been friends since we were at the Harper Hall."

"Are you the Mor he always tells me about?" she asked, her eyes widening again. "He said that his best friends were Mor and Drianne."

"Well, until a few days ago, I was Mor, but now I'm M'kai," M'kai said proudly.

"So you're the new Weyrsinger. I'm sorry I came and touched your music without your permission, but I used to sort it for the old Weyrsinger, and it became a habit. I miss him," she said sadly, the suggestion of a tear glistening in her eye.

"It sounds like you were very fond of him," M'kai remarked. "I hope we can get to know each other just as well." He smiled at her, and she shyly smiled back.

"Now, when do the other children normally finish breakfast?" he asked.

She listened for a moment, and smiled. "That sounds like them now," she laughed.

And indeed, it was. As soon as she stopped speaking, the hall was filled with the echoes of shouts and yells and the usual noise children create. It was so loud M'kai could barely hear himself think.

"ENOUGH!" he yelled over the noise. It brought the children to a halt, though the echoes continued for a few extra seconds. "Now, if everyone would please sit down, we'll begin."

M'kai gracefully folded his legs beneath him and sat on the carpet behind all the seats. The children stared at him, then one of the boys spoke up.

"We're supposed to sit in the chairs," he pointed out, as if to a child five Turns old.

"I know. Perhaps we will later, but first, I want to get to know you all," M'kai replied with a smile.

Norekke immediately sat beside him, and after the children looked at one another, they did too, forming a large circle.

"Good morning everyone. My name is M'kai, and I'm the new Weyrsinger. I hate people treating me formally, so you're not to call me sir, or Weyrsinger, or anything like that. Just M'kai. Now, what's your name?" he asked, pointing to a boy on the opposite side of the circle.

"I'm Tirrim, M'kai," he replied.

"Nice to meet you, Tirrim," M'kai said cheerfully. "And what's your name?"

* * *

Bye for now 


	16. Sweep

Thank you so much, reviewers! This story has just broken my record for number of reviews! Never averse to setting and breaking new records though...

Note: there's been a time-skip of about a Turn and a half between this chapter and the last.

I promise that Pern isn't mine. No matter how much I want it to be.

* * *

"Off you go, Norekke!" said M'kai with a laugh. "My fingers will drop off if I play one more chord, and besides, it's time for you to go and help F'mon scrub Peroth. You were going to help him do that today, weren't you? Dareth is down at the lake, and he said that Peroth just arrived. You'd better hurry!"

"Oh no! Bye, M'kai!" she squealed. She carefully placed the spare gitar back on its rack, and bolted for the entrance.

It had been a Turn and a half since M'kai had Impressed, and during that time, a lot had happened. Tyrith had nearly finished growing, and they would soon be allowed to fly Thread. Together, the two of them had been to every major landmark in the Northern, Southern and Eastern Continents, and every minor Hold in the North.

Thanks to M'kai's interference, B'kennor and Riasa were now together, and M'kai now had a slightly crooked nose to prove it.

Through talks with M'kai, Lessa had come to realise that he couldn't hear all dragons. He could, however, hear Dareth, T'car's blue, though no one knew why.

He had started teaching Norekke and a few of the other weyrlings to play instruments, though Norekke was easily the best. All of them knew all the Sagas and how to read, write and reckon, and their parents, both blood and foster, were delighted with the progress they had all made under the new Weyrsinger.

M'kai had received irregular letters from Diara, though funnily enough, none from Drianne. Diara got her Mastery, and was going down to the Southern Continent to work in one of the Southern holds, where they were still finding new diseases.

x

"Hey, M'kai!" came a shout from the doorway to the Weyrling Hall. Startled from his reverie, M'kai looked up to find B'kennor beckoning from the door. "It's already an hour past noon. The wing's getting ready to leave _now_. You'd better hurry, or N'mek will have your ears, no matter how pleased Mother and Father are with you about Norekke's music!"

"Shards!" M'kai exclaimed, and scrambled from his seat. He had joined N'mek's wing once he was promoted from the weyrling barracks (metaphorically of course, because as Weyrsinger, he had his own weyr right from the start), and wanted to stay on his good side.

Taking the steps two at a time, M'kai raced to his weyr and collected his riding gear. _Wake up, Tyrith!_ he called silently.

The big bronze stretched in his couch and turned to look at M'kai with his rainbow-coloured eyes. _What are you so excited about?_ he asked sleepily. _I was having a lovely dream._

_The rest of the wing is leaving, and if we don't hurry up, we'll be left behind!_ M'kai explained as he tugged on his gloves.

Tyrith rolled himself off the couch and offered a foot to M'kai. Stepping on, M'kai was lifted through the air to the Bowl below, where the rest of the wing was gathering. He stepped off, and beckoned to Tyrith to bend down so he could put on the harness.

"Running late again, huh?" a voice asked.

"Aren't I always?" M'kai groaned, buckling straps and absently checking they were tight.

"Of course. What do you expect from a wind player?" the voice laughed.

M'kai turned to grin at V'lan, a brown rider who was once an apprentice at the Harper Hall. He had specialised in strings, so the two of them were always involved in the feud that happens between so many string and wind players.

"Where are we off to today?" M'kai asked, not rising to the bait.

"Somewhere that should suit you. We're making a sweep with a wing from Monaco over Tillek, and I think we're overflying Fer. After we've finished, you could probably visit your mother," he replied, serious again.

"Thanks. I haven't seen Mother since the last gather at Tillek, and that was only briefly," said M'kai thoughtfully.

Then something else V'lan had said sunk in. "A wing from Monaco? Why?"

"Oh, it's a newly-formed wing that's got a lot of weyrlings," V'lan said dismissively. "They want an experienced wing to demonstrate how to fly sweep patterns, but Monaco has Thread due today, so they asked for us. Apparently, one of the riders has a brother in our wing."

"Probably B'kennor," M'kai said with a grin. "He has brothers everywhere."

Any further speculations were halted by the arrival of Wingleader N'mek. He gave the signal to mount, and M'kai leapt up Tyrith's shoulder and settled himself into place.

"Time to go! Take the visualisation from Kripeth!" he called. He paused to give riders and dragons a chance to get a clear picture in their minds of where they were going, then he pumped his arm in the signal to rise and go _between_. The wing lifted aloft and then winked out to reappear over the sun-drenched fields of Tillek.

"There's the Monaco wing!" V'lan cried, pointing to a series of silhouettes in the sky.

"Form the sweep pattern," N'mek called, and training took over. They flew a perfect sweep pattern, then landed in a field near the main Hold.

_Kripeth says that N'mek says all our riders must go and talk with the Monaco riders, _Tyrith informed him as he backwinged and landed. _We have to go and wait on Tillek's fireheights, _he added, grumbling. _I'll come back when you call._ He lifted off and winged his way towards the Hold, still grumbling.

M'kai smiled fondly, then turned and went to meet the Monaco riders. He went up to a boy who looked about seventeen, and held out a hand.

"Hello," M'kai said with a friendly smile. "I'm M'kai, Benden's Weyrsinger. How do you do?"

"Quite well, thank you," the youth replied, returning the handshake. "I'm J'tim. It's nice to meet you. Your wing is great to watch, you know. Some of the patterns you flew were really impressive."

"They were just normal sweep patterns, but I was really impressed when I first saw them too," M'kai explained. "You'll get used to them."

"How long ago did you Impress?" J'tim asked, shaking his head a little. "I've only been partnered with Dementh for a Turn." _Who does he remind me of? _he wondered.

"I Impressed Tyrith a Turn and a half ago. I've only been flying with this wing for about a month," M'kai replied. "I heard that one of your riders has a brother in our wing. Where is he?"

J'tim pointed wordlessly at a tall, black-haired rider talking to B'kennor, too surprised to say a word. _This boy_ _has been a rider less than two Turns, and he's the _Weyrsinger he thought, shocked.

"Thank you, J'tim," said M'kai, oblivious to the surprise he'd caused. "I might just go over and say hello. Goodbye." And he sauntered over to them, leaving a very shocked young rider behind him.

"Good day to you!" M'kai called as he came within earshot.

"Good day to you, my friend! Tell me, is B'kennor always this ridiculous?" the stranger called back, waving.

"Most of the time! What's he been saying now?" M'kai laughed, coming to a halt next to them. Something about the stranger was very familiar, he noted absently.

"He claims that you are Benden's Weyrsinger. I'm D'ron, rider of bronze Jarrath, by the way."

He held out a hand, and M'kai politely shook it. "Actually, for once, he was telling the truth. I _am _Benden's Weyrsinger, but when I'm not playing or teaching, I am M'kai, rider of bronze Tyrith."

"Whatever are you looking at us so oddly for, B'kennor?" D'ron asked. "You look like a fish gasping on the sand!" he chuckled, and began roar with laughter.

As M'kai joined in, he remembered winter nights at home spent listening to a voice tell stories and a laugh exactly the same… They stared at each other.

"Mordekai?"

"Dioron?"

* * *

See? I promised I'd get back to him at some point. 


	17. Terrible News

I am thoroughly flattered that anybody at all is showing an interest in this story; I have to pick myself up off the floor each time I get a review!

The original characters who appear are mine, the rest is not.

* * *

"So, you Impressed Jarrath at the same time as I Impressed Tyrith?" M'kai said slowly.

"That's right. I was Searched from the Dolphin Hall three months after I made journeyman, and Impressed Jarrath. How about you?"

"They found me the day after I made Master," M'kai replied absently.

"And he wasn't going to go until I told them that he'd lied about his age!" B'kennor laughed. _These two are a lot alike, but certainly not in looks, _he thought to himself. Whereas M'kai had black hair that was a little too long, D'ron kept his own cropped close to his head, and D'ron's tanned skin contrasted sharply with the much paler M'kai. The only physical thing they were even roughly similar in was height, though D'ron was slightly taller.

"You made Master? At your age? You're sixteen Turns old! Did they _know_ that before they raised you?" D'ron exploded.

"No. Drianne told them afterwards, when I was Searched," M'kai admitted shamefacedly. "They were all shocked, especially my girlfriend."

As soon as he realised what he'd said, M'kai clapped a hand over his mouth. However, it was too late.

"Your _girlfriend_? Whoa, little brother! _You_ have a _girlfriend_?" D'ron crowed.

"I haven't seen her since the Search. She moved to one of the Southern Holds after she got her Mastery," M'kai snapped.

"What's her name?" D'ron asked, still grinning.

"Diara," M'kai replied, turning his back on D'ron.

"Diara?" D'ron said in a strangled voice. "Was she a Healer?"

M'kai swung back at his tone, and found that D'ron's grin had disappeared, and his eyes were bleak.

"Yes, she was. Why? And why do you say 'was' a Healer?" M'kai asked, concerned.

"About six months ago, my friend Andy, who Impressed a green at the same time as me, fell ill. As the days went past and she didn't get better, we all started to get worried, so we got permission to call in a Master Healer. The Weyr's healer couldn't do anything. So I went down to Southern Hold and asked Master Diara for help. She was puzzled by Andy's illness too, and tried everything. But nothing worked, and Andy died," D'ron said in a deadened voice.

"Oh, Di. I'm so sorry," M'kai said, reaching out a hand and grasping his brother's shoulder. D'ron put one of his own hands on top of M'kai's, and took a deep breath, steadying himself.

"I'm afraid you haven't heard all of it," he said gently. "Not long after Andy died, Diara started showing symptoms of the disease. Despite being ill, she continued to work on a cure. Then one morning, her fire lizard woke me at the crack of dawn. She had discovered a cure. I rushed to her quarters, but it was too late. I found her dead at her desk."

x

M'kai stood stock-still, barely hearing D'ron say that Diara's notes had saved countless lives. Diara? Gone? How could she be gone? She was too young to die! Healers were supposed to fight diseases, not be killed by them!

It wasn't until a hand brushed away his tears that M'kai realised he was crying. "I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you this, little brother," D'ron said gently.

"No!" M'kai shouted, and pushed him away. "She can't be dead! You… you must be lying to me! Playing a cruel trick! I… I don't believe you!"

M'kai turned and ran, away from D'ron, and away from the horrible news that he had brought. His thoughts bounced around randomly, and the tears made tracks down his cheeks. _Tyrith!_ he screamed to the empty sky, knowing nothing but his need to get away. _Tyrith!_

And suddenly, the big bronze was there, gliding beside him. M'kai took a running leap, and landed astride his neck. _Take me home!_ M'kai cried silently, and formed a picture in his mind. Obediently, knowing that now was not the time for questions, Tyrith winked _between_.

x

Long after M'kai had run out of tears, he continued to cry, dry sobs that tore at his throat. He buried his face in the cover of the bed and cried, but eventually, the storm abated, and he just lay there, exhausted.

"Mor?" came a soft voice. "Are you in there?"

_If it isn't Diara, I don't want to know, _he thought. He remained silent, even when he heard someone enter the room and felt them sit on the edge of the bed.

"Mor, I know that you hurt, and that you're in shock. Let us help you. We all suffer losses throughout our lives, but we must be strong and go on. There are some who say that the loved ones who die before us wait for us on the other side of death, and I like to believe that it is true. But for now, you must rejoin the living, and live your life as she would have wanted you to."

M'kai made no reply, and after a few more attempts, the voice gave up and left, and M'kai spiralled back into the pit of despair he had fashioned for himself.

x

"He still won't respond, though I think he may have heard me that time," Menolly said as she softly closed the door.

"Is he still just lying there?" B'kennor asked, worried.

Menolly nodded silently, and B'kennor and D'ron sighed.

After M'kai had left Tillek so abruptly, B'kennor and D'ron had gone back to Benden to find him. When they couldn't, they started to get worried, and that was when they got a message from Menolly via Beauty, saying that M'kai had turned up at the Hall.

When M'kai had told Tyrith to take him home, the picture he had formed was the Hall, so Tyrith had taken him there, and M'kai had run to his old room and flung himself onto the bed to cry. He hadn't moved from there in three days.

"What are we going to do?" D'ron asked worriedly. "He can't just stay there and cry forever!"

"What _can_ we do?" B'kennor sighed. "He won't respond to any of us!"

"Mother?" came a call up the stairs. "Mother, are you up here?"

"Yes, dear. I'm in the journeymens' quarters," Menolly called back.

Within moments, a young woman came striding around the corner, stripping off her riding gloves. She shook out her long hair and sighed.

"Oh, I hate having to wear that helmet! It's wonderful to see you both again!" she exclaimed, giving Menolly and B'kennor a hug. "And who are you?" she asked, turning to D'ron.

"D'ron, rider of Jarrath," D'ron said.

To his surprise, she gave a gasp of delight and gave him a hug too. "Oh, you have changed so much!" she exclaimed. "Then again, you were only twelve when I last saw you…"

"Drianne! How have you been?" he said with a grin. _Her personality hasn't changed, though her appearance certainly has,_ he thought.

"Great! So, you're a rider too, huh? Oh, B'kennor! Did Mor Impress after he was Searched? I never did find out," she asked, turning back to B'kennor.

The two men suddenly lost their grins. "Yes, he did," B'kennor said quietly. "His bronze is out on the fireheights."

"Then he's here too?" she said delightedly. "Where is he?"

D'ron indicated the door. "In his old room. I should warn you that what you're about to see will probably shock you," he added, pushing the door open.

Drianne hesitated, wondering what he meant, then squared her shoulders and marched through the door, only to stop in horror as she saw the terrible state he was in.

* * *


	18. Reunion

Sorry about the delayed update! I've been kind of spacing out this week, and I'm afraid this story slipped to the back of the empty space I laughingly refer to as my mind.

Insert usual disclaimer.

* * *

M'kai was in the middle of another of his crying fits when he heard someone else enter the room. "Go away!" he shouted angrily into the bed. "Leave me be!"

"Mor, what has happened to you?" he heard a horrified voice ask.

He sat up, and glared at the woman standing there. "Leave me! Leave me alone with my grief!"

"Not until you tell me what happened," she said, putting her hands on her hips. A determined glint came into her eyes.

"My love is lost, lost for all time, taken from me by a dread illness that strikes down its victims without mercy. And without her, I too am lost. Now, go!" he shouted, and threw himself down again.

He expected to hear footsteps leaving, but instead, he heard her come closer.

"Go!" he shouted again, but she didn't move.

Suddenly, M'kai found himself hauled by the scruff of his neck into the air. "What on Pern do you think you're doing, Mordekai?" she yelled at him. "Pull yourself together, boy! I don't care _what_ has happened! _Nothing _gives you the right to act like you're three Turns old! You are going to snap out of this and get on with your life if I have to drag you out of this room and get Camanth to drop you into the sea!"

"Let go of me!" M'kai yelled, but the woman would not be put off. She dragged him off the bed with a bump, and hauled him kicking and screaming through the door.

The others stared in amazement as Drianne came through the door and started to drag him towards the stairs.

"Get up and walk, Mor, or I will throw you down the stairs!" she ordered. Realising that she was perfectly capable of carrying out this threat, M'kai stood and stalked down the stairs, fuming.

At the bottom of the stairs, she frogmarched him to the main door and pushed him out of it. As he emerged into the sunlight, blinking as his eyes, kept so long in darkness, adjusted to light again, there came a glad bellow and Tyrith lumbered over to him.

_M'kai! _he roared happily. _You've been so sad you haven't spoken to me in days! I was getting really worried!_

_I'm sorry, Tyrith! I didn't realise that I'd worried you!_ M'kai replied, realising that he had completely withdrawn from everything since he heard of Diara's death. Tyrith, D'ron, B'kennor… He'd ignored them all.

He turned to the woman who had effectively brought him back to life. "Thank you," he said formally. "I didn't realise how much I'd cut myself off from everything. Diara meant a lot to me, and her death… broke me. Thank you for picking up the pieces and putting me back together."

"What are friends for, Mor?" she asked, her face breaking into a smile. "I couldn't call myself your friend if I didn't at least _try_ to bring you out of it."

"Thanks. Now, I think I'll take your suggestion. Tell the others I'll be back soon, please."

And with that, he leapt to Tyrith's neck, took off, and flipped _between_.

x

B'kennor, D'ron and Drianne were sitting down for a meal when M'kai came through the door, dropped down onto the couch next to Drianne and smiled at her. He had cleaned himself up and changed, and seemed more alive than he had been in days.

"Feeling better, M'kai?" B'kennor asked, carefully watching him.

"I am now, thanks to Drianne," he said cheerfully, leaning forward and snagging a redfruit. He bit into the soft pulp, and sighed with contentment.

"Where did you go?" D'ron asked, reclining in his chair.

"Well, first, I took Drianne's suggestion, and dropped myself into a lake to wake myself up," he replied with a grin. "Then I flew back to the Weyr and got a proper clean and some fresh clothes. The ones I was wearing could have been used to sand a dragon's hide!" he laughed.

The others joined in, and settled down for a chat over afternoon tea.

"So Drianne, when did you Impress?" M'kai asked, reaching for another biscuit.

"I was actually Searched the day after you left. Ista's cut off age for Impression is sixteen, so I could go. I Impressed the queen of that clutch, and have spent the time since then a slave to her belly and her hide," she said affectionately, glancing through the window at the dragons on the fireheights, where Camanth could be seen napping in the sun.

They exchanged the stories of what had happened since they had last seen each other, though no mention was made of Andy or Diara. It was well past midnight when Drianne stretched and said ruefully, "I have to get back to Ista. I'm supposed to be on hand to resupply the queens' wing during Fall tomorrow, and lugging those flamethrower tanks around takes a lot of energy!"

"We'd better go too," B'kennor added, pulling M'kai up. "We've got an inspection in the morning, and N'mek will go spare if he finds something that isn't as perfect as he wants it to be!"

"It's been wonderful seeing you both again," M'kai said, leaning forward to hug Drianne and D'ron. "We'll have to catch up more often."

"Maybe we will," said Drianne, returning the hug. "There's a rumour going around Ista that F'lar and Lessa plan to set up another Weyr because the current ones are getting overcrowded again. If we're lucky, we might all be sent there together!"

"I hope so. I miss you guys," D'ron said, getting to his feet. "Safe flying, all!"

"Safe flying," the others chorused.

x

_Time skip of six months_

_x_

"Ready for your first Fall, boys?" N'mek asked, coming over to M'kai and G'rem, a blue rider who had Impressed at the same time as M'kai.

G'rem nodded nervously. "I guess so, sir," he quavered.

"Don't be so tense, G'rem," he said reassuringly. "You and M'kai here are the only two inexperienced members of this wing, so we'll look out for you. You're not expected to get everything perfect on your first time, so just try your best and remember what to do if you get hit. What do you do, M'kai?" he barked.

"Go _between_, sir," M'kai replied, unshaken by the shout. It was the way N'mek reinforced orders. "If you or your dragon are badly hurt, you should return to the Weyr."

"Good," N'mek said approvingly. "You've watched other Falls, so you should be all right. Now, mount up!"

The two boys saluted him, and scrambled up to their harnesses. "Good luck today, M'kai!" G'rem called as he strapped himself in.

"You too, G'rem!" M'kai called back.

N'mek pumped his arm, and the wing rose as one and winked _between_.

x

_On your left, Halath! Let the queens get it, Oranth! _Kripeth bellowed.

M'kai ignored the directions N'mek's bronze was calling out unless they were for Tyrith, and did his best to get every bit of Thread that fell near him. At one point, he flew a little too close to the green on his right and was nearly singed, but a quick swerve from Tyrith allowed him to escape.

M'kai felt scared, exhilarated and triumphant all at once as he and Tyrith ducked, dodged, swerved and flicked in and out as they destroyed the traditional enemy of the people of Pern. When they landed four hours later, they were exhausted and covered in char and soot, but they were also happy, feeling victorious that they had survived their first Fall.

"Well done, M'kai!" N'mek called as M'kai slithered down Tyrith's foreleg and stretched. "You did really well out there. G'rem had to go back to the Weyr with minor scoring to his blue's tail, but it looks like you escaped unscathed. Well done!"

"Thanks, sir," M'kai said with a smile and a weary salute.

"C'mon, M'kai, let's get back to the Weyr!' B'kennor exclaimed, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Looks like I win the bet I had with Riasa! She thought you'd be scored for sure!"

M'kai laughed, and remounted Tyrith for the flight back to the Weyr. Once they arrived back at the Weyr, he scrubbed Tyrith down to rid him of the stench of firestone and had a quick dip himself before heading over to B'kennor's weyr, where he spent a good part of his spare time. There, he found some of the members of his wing and most of the friends he'd made at the Weyr already picking at great platters of food and a large bowl of punch.

"Hey, M'kai! Great flight today!" V'lan called, spotting him.

"Yeah!" Riasa called. "I owe you one. You made me some marks today!" She glanced over at B'kennor, who grinned guiltily.

"And here's B'kennor telling me that _you_ were the one to bet I'd get scored!" M'kai laughed.

"Oh, you!" she said to B'kennor in mock exasperation, and promptly socked him one. B'kennor ducked away, laughing.

"What's all this for, anyway?" M'kai asked B'kennor as he helped himself from the punch bowl. He took a deep drink, then noticed that B'kennor was staring at him.

"You, dimglow!" he exclaimed. "It's your birthing day! Can't you remember _anything_?"

M'kai blinked in surprise, then laughing, shook his head. "I'd completely forgotten!" he exclaimed.

"Then it is lucky we did not," said an amused voice from the entrance. D'ron strode in, stripping off his riding gloves, and embraced his brother. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks, D'ron," M'kai replied, returning the hug.

"Hello, everyone!" cried a bright voice.

"Hello, Drianne!" everyone chorused, and broke up laughing. Since M'kai and Drianne had renewed their friendship six months earlier, everyone had learned to recognise the cheerful girl, and to reply to her greetings, or they would be pestered until they did.

"Seventeen, huh, M'kai?" she said cheerfully. "You're getting old!"

M'kai laughed, and hugged her. "Oh Drianne! How can seventeen be old when a girl of nineteen Turns acts as you do?"

"What do you mean, 'acts I do'?" she asked indignantly, her eyes twinkling. "I always act my age!"

All four of them dissolved into laughter, and the party continued all night. When the sun began to rise, B'kennor stood on the table and called for everyone's attention.

"As much as I hate to break up the party, it is now dawn here in Benden, and I'd like to get at least a _little _sleep tonight! So, thank you everyone for coming, and we'll see you all soon!"

He had no idea how soon.

* * *

Is that a better way of warning people about time skips?


	19. Placements

OK, for today's disclaimer, we have... um... any volunteers?

* * *

"M'kai! Wake up!" Norekke hissed, poking him.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry," he mumbled, and raised his head, despite the effort it cost him. F'lar was making a speech, but the combination of the late night and the adrenalin of fighting Thread wearing off had left M'kai exhausted, and it took too much energy to concentrate. He could always ask B'kennor or V'lan or someone else about it later. He put his head back down on the table, and drifted off again.

"M'kai? Are you going to pick one?" a voice asked a little while later.

"What? What's going on?" he said muzzily, and opened his eyes. F'nor was looking down at him, a grin creeping onto his face despite his efforts to hide it.

The brown rider displayed a hatful of folded slips of paper, and said, "I noticed you weren't exactly paying attention to F'lar's speech, so I'll go over it again. The Weyrs are becoming crowded again, so riders are drawing lots to see where they're going. Some people are staying where they are, of course, like the current Weyrleaders and senior Weyrwomen, but all the wings are being broken up and reshuffled, to give everyone some experience. So, pick a paper, and see where you'll be going!"

He offered the hat, and M'kai reached out to take one. He carefully unfolded it, and read the words on it. He looked up at F'nor blankly. "Where's 'Hanrahan Weyr'?" he asked.

A loud whoop next to his ear made M'kai jump and fall off his seat onto the rocky floor. "That's where I'm going! This is great!" B'kennor exclaimed, snatching the paper. "It's the new Weyr being established on the northern coast of the Southern Continent. They named it after…"

"Sorka Hanrahan, Faranth's rider, and her family," M'kai interrupted. "I am a harper; don't insult me by presuming to instruct me in the history I teach to the young."

"Sorry, M'kai," B'kennor said, his grin proving he wasn't. "Anyway, it's great that we'll be together!"

"Stuck with both of you, am I?" said F'nor with a weary resignation. He was smiling, though.

"Sir?" M'kai asked, puzzled.

"I'm to run Hanrahan until the first queen rises," he explained. "Brekke and I are retiring at the end of the Pass, and that's in two Turns. F'lar decided to keep us busy until then. Even after there's a Weyrleader and Weyrwoman, I'll be staying on to advise them, and all you other younglings."

"Fantastic!" B'kennor exclaimed. "There are so many boring old riders we could have been stuck with, but instead we get you!"

"So I'm not boring?" F'nor said with a grin.

"Just old!" the cheeky B'kennor replied.

"So, who else got Hanrahan?" M'kai asked, glancing at the other riders talking animatedly with each other.

"I did," Riasa called from the other side of the room.

"So did I," V'lan yelled.

Another thirty or so riders called out that they too had gotten Hanrahan, and there were cheers as riders discovered who else was in their new Weyr.

"Riders, please, calm down!" F'lar called over the general uproar. It immediately ceased, and all eyes were turned towards him.

"Everyone will be inspecting their new Weyrs tomorrow as it is a restday, then everyone will move in once Hanrahan is complete. But for now, let everyone drink and be merry, for the beginning of a new Weyr is cause for celebration!"

Flagons of Benden wine were passed out, and very soon, there was a noisy party happening. In all the other Weyrs, there were similar scenes as riders were given new assignments, and it was a wonder that there were no midair collisions as fire lizards streamed in and out of Weyrs, carrying news of the new placements.

x

M'kai woke at dawn, completely refreshed. Pleading exhaustion, he had retired early from the party, though he heard the faint sounds echoing around the Bowl for more than an hour before he finally dropped off to sleep. As a result, he was much more awake than the other riders heading to Hanrahan, and everywhere else for that matter. B'kennor was actually snoring on Dioanth's neck, the bronze being careful not to let his rider slip off.

"Let's go, everyone!" M'kai cried. "If Canth will give us the visualisation?" he added courteously, with a nod to the big brown.

Canth inclined his head, and a vivid picture filled the riders' minds.

"B'kennor, wake up! We're leaving!" M'kai cried. B'kennor jerked awake and frantically grabbed the riding straps to stop himself slipping off. M'kai pumped his arm, and the wing launched as one and winked out.

"Ever thought of going for a wingleader, young M'kai?" F'nor asked as they reappeared over a wide bay.

M'kai opened his mouth to ask why, then realised he had taken charge as they left Benden. He shut it again, and F'nor laughed.

"There's nothing wrong with being a good leader," he added gently, realising he had upset him a bit.

"So, where's the Weyr?" B'kennor asked, bringing Dioanth in closer. "I don't see any caves."

"Hidebound traditionalist!" F'nor snorted. "Down here in the Southern Continent, we don't need caves. At Southern, each rider was responsible for making their own weyr. We've decided to adopt a similar system here, but we'll build communal buildings together," he explained.

"In the Southern Continent, you need to build with the tropical heat in mind," he said, raising his voice so the other riders could hear him. "It gets very warm here during the day, and is often very humid. Floods are also a problem, as are bugs. So you'll need wide windows, raised floors and we'll get the SmithHall to make us air-conditioning units for those who want them. Personally, I think I'd die without one, and I recommend that you all get them, though we have to pay for them out of our own marks," he added regretfully, making the others laugh.

"I need at least rough plans by the end of the day, and construction will begin when everyone is happy with their design. So, have a look around, find a spot and start sketching!"

Gesturing to Tyrith to make himself comfortable in the sand, M'kai pushed his way into the thick undergrowth and began his search for a suitable spot for his weyr. All around him he could hear the other riders crashing through the tangled vines and cursing as they were scratched by thorns and tripped into more. M'kai chuckled to himself, then swore as he too tripped.

"You all right there, M'kai?" B'kennor asked as he parted the leaves of a bush, an amused grin on his face.

"Would you be all right if _you_ fell into thorns?" M'kai grumbled, clambering out of them.

"Ah, but am I dim enough to do that?" he laughed. His next step landed into a thicker tangle of them than M'kai had fallen into.

"I think the answer to that is yes, B'kennor," M'kai laughed, and pulled him out of them. "Now, let's stop needling each other and find somewhere worth living."

Groaning at M'kai's awful pun, B'kennor followed his friend deeper into the jungle.

x

"You know what, B'kennor? I think this might be it!" M'kai said thoughtfully, surveying the surrounding area.

In front of them, there lay a river happily bubbling away to itself as it churned over a bed of rocks. Beyond it, trees gathered close to the shore and some even draped into it. The river's banks were made of sand, so there was little undergrowth, but best of all, there were no thorns.

"I don't know, M'kai," B'kennor said doubtfully.

"Well, if we clear away some of these trees, shore up the river with rock so the banks won't collapse, we could build just up there. We'd need foundations of rock, but we'd have fresh water nearby and it's close enough to where we landed to be within range of the Weyr proper but far enough away to get a bit of privacy."

"Well, you can set up here if you want, but I'm going to keep looking," B'kennor said with a wave, sauntering onwards. "I want somewhere where there's enough room for two."

M'kai chuckled, because he knew how popular the bronze rider was among the women of the Weyr. He and Riasa were only in a casual relationship, and neither of them believed in fidelity.

_This is what comes of being Hold-bred_, M'kai thought to himself as he pulled out his sketchbook. _You have morals._

_x_

_M'kai! It is time for you to wake up. The others are preparing to leave,_ a voice told him. M'kai groaned and rolled over, and found himself underwater. He exploded out of the water and swam to the shore, where he sat dripping and coughing up water.

_M'kai? Are you all right?_ Tyrith asked anxiously. _You were scared._

_I just fell into the water when I woke up. It's nothing to worry about,_ M'kai reassured him between coughing fits. He heard Tyrith laugh, and started grinning himself. _Pretty stupid thing to do, really_, he thought to himself.

After he had finished sketching, he had returned to the beach where they had landed, and moved further round the bay until he found somewhere nice and quiet. He had eaten his midday meal on a sandy point that protruded further into the water, fallen asleep, and it was here that he had rolled right off and into the water.

_Are you coming?_ Tyrith enquired. _The rest of the wing is mounting up._

"Oh no!" M'kai exclaimed. "I'll be there as fast as I can!"

He stood and made a grab for the bag containing his sketchbook and what remained of his midday meal and stumbled across the sand until he reached the point where the others were getting ready to leave.

"Great shells! What have you been _doing_, M'kai?" B'kennor exclaimed when he saw him. "You're absolutely _covered_ in sand!"

"I fell into the water when Tyrith woke me, and the sand stuck to me as I came back," M'kai admitted as he clambered up to his seat on Tyrith.

B'kennor burst out laughing, and laughed so hard he nearly fell off Dioanth.

"Oh, shut up," M'kai said irritably. It had seemed funny at first, but now he was soaking wet, the wind was making him feel cold and the sand was starting to itch and annoy him.

_Canth wishes to know if we are ready to leave,_ Tyrith said, breaking into M'kai's misery.

_More than ready, Tyrith. I can't wait to get into a nice warm bath!_ M'kai thought longingly.

"Let's ride!" F'nor roared, echoed by Canth. With a pump of his arm, he led the riders into the air and _between._

* * *

Note to self: Don't space out, don't space out, don't space out... 


	20. Sick

Sorry! I promised myself I wasn't going to space out before I remembered to update again, but... well, pie-crust promise. Easily made, easily broken. If it's any consolation, I forget a lot of things (up to and including when my exam results came out), not just this.

Nearly forgot the disclaimer too.

* * *

"M'kai? Are you all right?" Kirsty asked over dinner. "You aren't as talkative as usual, and you haven't been eating."

"Oh, I got a cold when I went _between_ the other day," he explained with a sniff. "I fell into water and had no time to dry off before we left."

"Ugh," she said sympathetically. "I've done that one before."

"So now I feel absolutely awful," he groaned.

"At least there's no Fall for a few days," she said philosophically, pouring herself a cup of klah. "Have something to eat; it might make you feel better."

"Thanks for the suggestion, but I don't feel like eating anything right now," he said. "I might just go and get some sleep. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning." He stood and made his way to the entrance.

"Ah, M'kai, just the person I wanted to see," Lessa hailed him warmly. "Lord Jaxom and Lady Sharra are here, and we were wondering if you would provide us with some music."

"I am ever at your service, Lessa," M'kai replied. "If you will just allow me to fetch my gitar, I will be there in a moment."

He left the dining hall and hurried to the Weyrling Hall to collect his gitar. He didn't think he had the breath for the pipe tonight. At the Hall, he was forced to lean against the wall for a moment as a wave of dizziness came over him, then he returned to the dining hall with his gitar.

"Ah, M'kai," F'lar greeted him. "This is our Weyrsinger, bronze rider M'kai," he added to the man and woman sitting next to him. "This is Lord Jaxom of Ruatha, and his spouse Lady Sharra," he said by way of introduction.

M'kai gave them a small bow. "It is my honour to meet and entertain you tonight, my lord and lady."

"It is our honour to be entertained, M'kai," Jaxom replied.

"This song is a ballad dedicated to all the men and women who participated in AIVAS' Great Scheme," M'kai said, seating himself.

He played it, and as it finished, Jaxom remarked idly, "I don't remember it being quite like that, but it is close enough to the truth."

"Did I err, my lord?" M'kai asked worriedly. "I was sure that I researched everything properly."

"Did you write it, M'kai?" Sharra said in surprise. "I felt that it really captured the essence of those days. I don't know what Jaxom is talking about," she said with a sidelong look at her spouse, "but it seemed accurate to me."

"Thank you, my lady," M'kai said. A dull pounding had started in his head, and his throat was dry from singing.

"Can you please play something instrumental, so we may continue our conversation?" Lessa asked. "I feel like listening to music in the background tonight."

"Of course, Lessa," M'kai said gratefully, and launched into an instrumental piece.

He played three more songs, and by this time, he could no longer hear what he was playing through the pounding of his head. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he felt unbearably hot.

"M'kai?" he heard a voice call, as if from far away. "M'kai? M'kai? Are you all right? I can't get him to answer me!" the voice said, sounding panicky. He vaguely identified the voice as B'kennor.

_I want to answer, but I can't,_ he tried to say, but the words seemed to get stuck and he couldn't get them out.

"He said he wasn't feeling well at dinner," another voice said, close by. Kirsty, this time. "But he said it was just a cold!"

"Firehead has the same initial symptoms as a cold," he heard Sharra say grimly. "But it's a whole lot worse. It can be deadly. Get him up to the sickroom," she ordered.

M'kai felt himself being lifted into B'kennor's arms, and felt the thuds as B'kennor's feet hit each step.

"I'm sick, aren't I?" M'kai mumbled.

"Yes, you are. Very sick," B'kennor scolded. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Thought it was a cold," M'kai replied tiredly. "Diara's good at curing colds. Where is she?"

B'kennor paused for a moment, then continued up the stairs. "She's dead, M'kai. She's been dead for nearly a Turn."

"Diara? Where are you? Who's M'kai? M'kai is a rider's name. I'm Mor, from Fer Hold, and I'm going to grow up to be a harper," M'kai announced, struggling to get out of B'kennor arms.

"Let me go, Dioron! You'll make me late to meet Diara!" M'kai said angrily, tears leaking from his eyes.

"He's delirious," B'kennor said sadly. "He thinks that I am his brother, and he can't even remember that he's a dragonrider."

"It'll pass," Sharra assured him. "The delirium stage is generally over within a sevenday, though I've never seen anyone forget that they are a rider," she said, glancing at the feverish boy.

_M'kai! Can you not remember me?_ Tyrith asked piteously. _M'kai?_

"Dioanth says even Tyrith can't make him respond," B'kennor said, tears forming in his eyes. Though he would never tell him, he was very fond of M'kai. "What rider would ignore their dragon?"

They reached the sickroom, and once B'kennor laid M'kai on the bed, Sharra covered him with furs. "I'm going to need medicines," she said, rolling up her sleeves. "Where does the Weyr's healer keep them?"

"My uncle keeps his stock of medicines over here," Kirsty said, opening the doors of a cupboard built into the wall. "There's numbweed, fellis, willowsalic, sweatroot, featherfern… Want do you want first?"

"I always found that willowsalic with a drop or two of fellis worked well for firehead headaches, so I'll start with that. While I mix that up, can you make up a mixture one part featherfern to two parts water?" she asked Kirsty.

"Yes, my lady," she answered, and after giving Sharra the bottle of willowsalic crystals and the fellis flask, collected the featherfern and went deeper into the cave for the water tap at the back.

"Is there anything I can do, Lady Sharra?" B'kennor asked, feeling helpless.

"Yes. Get a bandage from the cupboard and wet it, then place it over his forehead and eyes. Fold it thick enough that you can't see through it," Sharra ordered. "Then see if you can find something to immobilise his head. I don't want him moving."

"Why not?" B'kennor asked, squinting at the folded bandage he held to make sure no light could get through.

"If he moves, he can knock the cloth off his eyes, and if his eyes are exposed to any light, he could go blind," she said bleakly.

"Blind!" B'kennor exclaimed, dropping the bandage. "This firehead is that bad?"

"It can be," Sharra answered solemnly.

* * *

Sorry again! 


	21. A Wild Flight

Pern ain't mine.

* * *

Despite the strong onset, M'kai's case was relatively mild, and he was over the delirium in three days. He was strong enough to leave his bed a few days later, and was completely healthy within two sevendays. He wasn't allowed to go _between _for a month after he was well, and he fretted through every Threadfall his wing flew without him.

To keep himself occupied when the Weyr was out fighting, he sketched endless designs for his new weyr, discarding them when dissatisfied, so his friends would return to find his floor covered in screwed-up paper. He went through two sketchbooks before he had the idea of using the plans for Cove Hold as a starting point.

From there, he designed a long, low building with large open areas for entertaining, a big kitchen that joined on to them so the people cooking could still be part of the group and other rooms with specific purposes. He made miniature models of a dam for diverting part of the river so it flowed through the house as both decoration and for bathing.

As he was working on the plan for Tyrith's weyr, the wings returned from Fall, but he was so absorbed in what he was doing he didn't notice. It was only when a blackened finger came down over his shoulder and stabbed the page on the design for the kitchen that he realised he was no longer alone.

He let out a shout and pushed himself away from the desk, which caused the man with the dirty fingers to groan as the chair hit him in the midriff and winded him. M'kai spun around to find B'kennor doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, B'kennor! I didn't mean to hurt you! You just gave me such a fright!" M'kai exclaimed, rising from his chair and helping B'kennor into it.

"Some way to greet a friend," he choked out.

M'kai then realised that only part of his breathlessness came from being hit, as his eyes were twinkling with laughter.

"Oh, you!" he exclaimed in frustration. "I was trying to work, and you come and interrupt with your childish pranks…"

"What were you working on?" B'kennor interrupted, having finally caught his breath.

"Do you mind? I was lecturing you," M'kai said with a frown.

B'kennor, however, had picked up M'kai's sketchbook and was flipping through the pages. "Designing the new weyr again, huh?" he laughed, then as he came to the newer sketches, he stopped joking and began looking at them seriously.

"You know, these are really good, M'kai," he said admiringly, glancing up at his friend. "I love the open areas. It would be great when you have parties and stuff. Our weyrs here are too small to hold too many people. With this, you could invite the entire Weyr!"

"Don't worry," M'kai said, smiling. "I won't forget to invite you!"

x

"So, I think we should build the dining hall here," Drianne announced, stretching a thick roll of paper out and looking critically at the drawings printed on it. "What do you lot think?"

"Yeah, sounds fine," M'kai and B'kennor chorused.

They and a few others were down at Hanrahan picking out sites for the buildings, and as one of the junior Weyrwomen of Hanrahan, Drianne was in charge. It was easier to put her in charge than have her take over anyway.

"D'ron? What do you think?" she asked over her shoulder. "D'ron?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. I was just looking at… stuff. What were you saying?" he asked, giving himself a little shake.

"Really, D'ron!" she scolded. "If you are to be a wingsecond, you need to pay more attention! What happens if you don't listen to what your wingleader says and you end up in the wrong continent?"

T'gellan, Weyrleader of D'ron's native Monaco Weyr, had recommended D'ron for the position of wingsecond in one of the new wings being formed. He had recognised the talent of the youngster, and wanted him to spend some time as a wingsecond before becoming a wingleader.

"I won't, Drianne," D'ron replied. "Listening to a wingleader and listening to someone pick somewhere to eat are completely different things."

"'Pick somewhere to eat?'" Drianne exclaimed incredulously. "Pick somewhere… Choosing the site to build the new Weyr's dining hall is nothing like 'picking somewhere to eat'!"

"I didn't mean it like that, Drianne…" D'ron said, trying to calm her, but she was too angry.

"You lot are hopeless! Choose the site yourself!" she snapped. "_I'm_ going for a walk!" She stalked off into the undergrowth.

"You've really done it this time, D'ron," M'kai said, shaking his head.

B'kennor, however, chuckled. "You know, she's showing all the signs of a rider with a dragon who's ready to fly," he remarked.

"Ready to fly?" M'kai repeated, confused. "Camanth's always ready to fly."

"Fly to mate, dimglow," B'kennor said, giving him a gentle slap on the back of the head. "Not normal flying."

"Oh," M'kai said, stretching the syllable out as he realised what he meant. "Does that mean she'll fly today?"

"Could be, the way Drianne's acting," B'kennor answered with a shrug. "Then again, maybe not."

x

_Bloody D'ron! _Drianne thought furiously as she stalked through the bushes, whipping at them with her wherhide riding gloves. _Just because he doesn't really care where the hall goes…_

She angrily scrubbed her hand across her face, scattering the tears. Then suddenly, she stopped, and stared in astonishment at the drops that still clung to her fingers.

"Since when do I get so angry I cry?" she asked herself aloud.

x

_Drianne!_ Camanth called, sounding distressed. _Drianne! What's happening to me?_

_I'm coming, Camanth!_ Drianne shouted back, and immediately spun and flew back the way she had come. _What is it, dear heart? _

The only answer she received was a roar. Drianne ran faster, ignoring the branches that whipped across her face, not even pausing as she wiped the blood out of her eye when it trickled down from a cut a branch left on her forehead.

"Drianne! Drianne! Where are you?" From the clearing ahead, she could hear other riders calling her name, sounding excited. "Drianne?"

"I'm here!" she shouted, bursting out of the trees. "What's wrong with Camanth?"

Immediately, the other riders gathered around her. "She's ready to fly!" said one of the riders she didn't know, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "The bronzes are already blooding their kills. You have to control her when she feeds, or the flight won't be as good!"

"Only let her blood her kill, not eat," warned the junior Weyrwoman from Fort. "It's always best when they blood. You're in for an experience now, my girl!" she added, nearly cackling with glee. "I remember my first mating flight; what a day that was!"

_Camanth? What's happening? _Drianne cried out, but the swirl of emotions she got in response from her normally gentle partner overwhelmed her. She let out a scream and fell.

Luckily, someone was there to catch her. "Keep a hold on her, and on yourself, Drianne!" the voice hissed. "You mustn't lose yourself in it!"

Drianne snarled. She was no longer Drianne, two-legged creature tied to the earth. She was Drianne-Camanth, queen of the skies, the greatest of all winged things, free to soar and dive to her heart's content.

"Drianne!"

x

Drianne-Camanth roared and took to the skies, searching for her prey. On the wind, she could smell the blood of the bronzes' prey, and angled her body so she turned towards it. As she glided over the forest, her multi-faceted eyes picked out the shapes of running herdbeasts ahead. Swooping down, she caught one in her claws, and wheeled to land on a ledge far above the field.

She held a claw poised to disembowel the creature, but a tiny part of her that was just Drianne paused, and moved the claw to the neck, where she slashed open the jugular and bent to drink, her forked tongue flicking in and out as she drank. Not satisfied, she leapt for another, and drank from it down in the field while the others fled.

At last, glowing as brightly as the sun, she gave a powerful leap with her hindquarters, and was aloft, using a pocket of hot air to rise high and fast. The eager bronzes, waiting while the queen fed, leapt after her, but already she was weaving through the updrafts and clouds, hiding in one for a moment, then dashing out and confusing her pursuers. Inside, Drianne laughed merrily, and flew on.

x

Back on the ground, M'kai found himself caught up in Tyrith's lust, but retained enough of presence of mind to support Drianne against him while her mind flew with her dragon. _I hope I can hold on through this! _he thought, gritting his teeth.

Dimly, M'kai realised that oldest rider there, P'gon, had fallen to his knees, but had no more time to notice anything as another wave of emotion from Tyrith hit him, making his mind whirl.

x

Drianne-Camanth glanced behind her, and on the ground, Drianne's lips curved into a smile. There had been eight dragons chasing her at the start; now, there were only seven. The eighth had dropped out, and was flying some distance below. _Too old to keep up,_ she thought contemptuously. She gave a mighty beat of her wings, and soared even higher, relishing the feel of the wind on her cheek.

The older dragons began to drop out, until only the five youngest dragons could still keep up. _They have no chance of catching me,_ Drianne-Camanth thought, and to surprise them, suddenly folded her wings and dropped, catching an updraft as they scattered in confusion.

_Catch me if you can!_ she cried. She glanced back again, and saw to her delight that she had lost another one. Now only Tyrith, Jarrath, Dioanth and Timith were left.

x

M'kai surfaced again to find he was still holding Drianne up, but of the bronze riders, only himself, D'ron, B'kennor and J'nin from Ista were still on their feet. The Fort Weyrwoman and some of the lesser riders had helped the unsuccessful riders to cookfires where they were given food to restore their energy.

M'kai tried to croak reassurance to himself or Drianne (he didn't know which), but before he could moisten his throat enough to talk, he was pulled back into the flight.

x

Timith suddenly surged forward, trying to wind his neck around Drianne-Camanth's, but she ducked and left him floundering. She sneered at him, and plummeted downwards.

_Why does Tyrith hold back? _she wondered as she fell. _The others try to catch me, yet Tyrith does not. Is he saving his energy to catch me later?_

Her question went unanswered as one of her pursuers, taking advantage of her distracted state, twined his neck around hers and on the ground, Drianne was ripped from M'kai's arms.

x

"I hoped it would be you," Drianne whispered, threading her fingers through the man's hair before she pulled his mouth down onto hers and kissed him deeply.

* * *

Keep reading to find out who the successful bronze rider was! 


	22. Wingsecond

It has been pointed out that my updates of late have been erratic and infrequent, so I offer my sincerest apologies to anyone who has been kept waiting. I will endeavour to rectify these circumstances in future.

Jeez that sounded stuffy.

* * *

"They're back," J'nin said, handing M'kai a cup of klah. M'kai nodded his thanks, and cautiously sipped at the hot liquid. He had eaten, but still felt exhausted.

"That sure was a wild flight," J'nin commented, seating himself on the log next to M'kai. "The other two I was involved in were nothing like it."

"Hello, M'kai, J'nin," Drianne said, coming up to the fire, her hand still entwined in B'kennor's. "Mind if we sit here?"

"Why would we mind?" M'kai asked jovially, gesturing to them to take the opposite log. "Pull up a log."

"I just wanted to thank you for supporting me during the flight," she said awkwardly as she sat.

"That's all right, Drianne," M'kai said, blushing a little. "What are friends for?"

"Don't just brush it off like that," J'nin warned. "I've never seen someone keep their head like that in a mating flight before."

"That's my buddy M'kai!" said B'kennor, stretching his boots out to the fire and watching them steam as they dried.

"Is there enough log for me to sit on too?" D'ron asked, joining them. He held up a platter of food. "I brought enough for everyone."

"Well, there isn't really any more room, but we'll move up for the bearer of food," M'kai said graciously.

D'ron grinned, and sat down on one of the empty logs. "Very funny. Dig in, everyone," he said, offering the platter round.

They helped themselves, then M'kai slid down onto the ground and lay back, using the log as a headrest. The others followed his example, and pretty soon, they were all snoring.

x

"So, M'kai. B'kennor tells me that you were the only bronze rider to keep your head during Camanth's flight. Is that true?" Lessa asked, gazing at him thoughtfully as she reclined in her chair.

M'kai stood even straighter, trying not to blush. "Yes, Lessa, that is correct."

"Do you know why?" she asked.

He hesitated, then answered, "It may have something to do with my… inexperience. I am only seventeen, and am not used to the… sensations a mating flight produces. At times, I felt that I was inhibiting Tyrith, that I couldn't bond with him properly because I couldn't understand what was going on."

"I doubt that that was the reason, young M'kai," F'lar chuckled. "Most boys know and understand the feeling of lust. I know my friends and I did at your age."

"Then, I can't think of a reason," M'kai replied, secretly grinning at the thought of a seventeen-year-old F'lar lusting after a girl. Everybody knew that he had no eyes for any woman except Lessa.

"Have you considered the fact that you are more practical than the people around you?" Lessa asked, ignoring her weyrmate. "Norekke tells me that you see the things that need doing and do them, while most people are unaware of them or feel that these things are not their responsibility. You saw that Drianne needed support, so you gave it to her while all the others could think only of their lust." She rolled her eyes. "I never _could_ understand what men find so fascinating about lust."

M'kai couldn't help himself; he just burst out laughing. Luckily, F'lar did at the same time, so Lessa had to spread her glare between them.

"I'm glad you two find this so funny. M'kai, from what I've been told, you keep your head in a crisis and are perfectly capable of giving sensible orders. You are hereby promoted to wingsecond, and will serve under K'dric, an experienced wingleader, until we consider you fit to lead your own wing. Or maybe until _I_ consider you ready," she added, eyeing the helplessly laughing F'lar.

"Go and find K'dric now, and tell him I sent you to him as a replacement for M'din. M'din was injured in the last Fall, and will be out of action at least until Hanrahan is up and going. I'll reassign you when he recovers. Off you go!"

M'kai gave her a quick bow. "At your command, Weyrwoman," he replied formally. "And thanks!" he added with a grin as he began the descent down their stairs.

x

At the bottom of the stairs, he was accosted by an anxious Drianne, who was waiting to find out why Lessa had summoned him on their return from Hanrahan.

"What happened?" Drianne demanded. "Are you in trouble?"

"Not at all," M'kai reassured her. "Quite the contrary, in fact. Lessa decided that I had shown I was 'able to give sensible orders and keep my head in a crisis'," he grinned, "so she's made me a wingsecond to K'dric."

Drianne squealed and threw her arms around his neck. M'kai gently disengaged himself, and said, "I have to go find K'dric now, but I'll meet you later. Bye!"

"B'kennor, D'ron and I are having a picnic dinner tonight. Meet us at B'kennor's weyr at the eighteenth hour so you can come with us!" she called after his rapidly retreating back. He waved an acknowledgement, and hurried on to find K'dric.

x

"So, you're M'din's replacement, are you?" K'dric said, eyeing M'kai. He was a grizzled old man, and was missing an eye from his long battle with Thread. He had a scar that ran from his earlobe to disappear into his untidy grey hair under the patch he wore to hide his empty socket, and the old brown dragon snoozing on the ledge was nearly as scarred.

"Yes, sir," M'kai replied, trying to hide his nervousness.

"First assignment, huh?" K'dric asked, leaning back in his chair.

"How can you tell?" M'kai asked dryly.

K'dric chuckled. "At least you have a sense of humour, boy. Tomorrow, my wing has the sweep where our territory overlaps with High Reaches. Not a very challenging area, so it's the perfect spot for a beginner. In my wing, I give the orders, and you see that they're carried out. When we begin, watch G'flem. He's been filling in for M'din until Lessa assigned someone else and he's already familiar with the routine, so you'll soon pick up on what to do if you keep a close eye on him. Report to my weyr at the seventh hour tomorrow morning for instructions, and don't be late!"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," M'kai answered, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and M'kai? Don't call me sir. You're to address me as K'dric, or Wingleader, understood?" K'dric called after him.

"Yes, K'dric," M'kai replied, and with a casual salute, marched out.

x

"Drianne tells me you've been promoted to wingsecond, M'kai," B'kennor said, reaching for another portion of fish.

D'ron looked up from the tuber he was eating and said indistinctly, "You made wingsecond? That's great, M'kai!"

They had left B'kennor's weyr as the sun set and were now enjoying a picnic with their backs settled against a large rock and their booted feet stretched out towards a roaring fire. It was a beautiful cloudless night, and though neither moon could be seen, the stars that were scattered across the sky gave a faint light of their own.

"This is such a perfect night," Drianne murmured, leaning into B'kennor, who absently put his arm around her.

"It certainly is," he agreed. "You know what would make it even better?"

"What?" she asked, trying to hide a yawn behind her hand.

"A little music. M'kai?" he asked, his lips curving into a smile.

"Only if you all join in," M'kai agreed lazily, poking at the fire.

The others laughed and agreed, and soon the sound of four voices floated up from their camp and drifted aimlessly on the night air until they could no longer think of any songs they all knew all the words to. "Now play something, M'kai," Drianne said sleepily, snuggling into B'kennor.

"What makes you so sure that I have an instrument to play?" M'kai asked, putting his hands behind his head.

"Because we know you M'kai, and we know that you always have at least one pipe tucked about your person," D'ron laughed.

M'kai grinned, and brought out a pipe. "Caught!" he said amiably. The others laughed as M'kai brought it to his lips. He blew a soft note, then began a piece he had composed a few days earlier.

Drianne sighed in contentment as he finished. "I love listening to you play," she yawned. "Play another one, please."

M'kai laughed, and lifted the pipe again. As he played the last few bars, he opened his eyes to find Drianne and B'kennor asleep against each other and D'ron propped up against the rock, snoring gently.

"Says a lot for my playing, if my audience falls asleep during a performance!" he murmured to himself, a slight smile curving his lips. He then yawned, and realised how tired he was.

He pulled his discarded jacket over to himself and rolled it up, making a rough pillow. "Good night, everyone," he whispered, lying down. He was asleep before his head touched the wherhide.

x

_M'kai, you must get up. The sun is rising, and Syndrath says G'flem is looking for you, _Tyrith told him. _He also says if you do not come very soon, you will be late, and K'dric will be angry with you._

M'kai sleepily opened his eyes and yawned, then as what Tyrith said registered, he sat bolt upright. "Oh no!" he exclaimed.

He leapt up, and pausing only to shrug on his jacket, vaulted onto Tyrith's neck. _To Benden!_ he cried, visualising their weyr. The big bronze he rode gave a mighty leap and went _between_.

x

"Where have you been, M'kai?" G'flem asked when they landed. A middle-aged man, G'flem had brown hair he kept cut short and brown eyes. In fact, he was brown all over, from his skin to his dragon Syndrath. In the shadows caused by the early morning sun, he was nearly invisible.

"I had a picnic with my brother and some friends last night, and we fell asleep out there," M'kai hurriedly explained, splashing water on his face and roughly drying himself before throwing on a new tunic. "Do I look presentable?"

G'flem examined him critically. "No, but K'dric doesn't put much store on appearances," he sighed. "We have five minutes before we're expected at his weyr, so move it!"

x

"You did well this morning, M'kai," K'dric said, watching the rest of the wing as they returned to their weyrs. "If you continue to perform the way you did this morning, you should be ready to handle your own wing by the time Hanrahan is ready to be occupied. Of course, I'll have to see how you do by yourself, first," he added, glancing sideways at the youngster.

M'kai nodded, blushing a little. No matter how often he was praised, he always felt slightly embarrassed by it. "I'll do my best, Wingleader," he said with a short bow. "But now, I must hurry to the Weyrling Hall, or I'll be late for my class."

"Until next sweep, then," K'dric said, clasping his forearm. "Check the timetable posted in the dining hall to see when it is. I think it's noon in two days' time, but check anyway, just to be sure."

"Yes, K'dric," M'kai replied, returning the clasp, secretly thrilled. The forearm clasp was the salute of dragonriders, and showed that K'dric considered him a man.

* * *

Variety is the spice of life, so I decided to put my disclaimer down here for this chapter. You all thought I'd forgotten it, hadn't you? 


	23. A Late Night Talk

There has been a time skip of about two Turns since the last chapter. I'm sorry to keep doing this, but I really feel that the skips are necessary, so I'll do my best to keep you well informed of them.

Believe it or not, I am not the famous Anne McCaffrey, nor am I her son Todd. Therefore, I am not the proud owner of canon characters, events and settings, but merely the surprised owner of my own characters and Hanrahan Weyr.

* * *

"Let's get back to the Hold!" M'kai roared, pumping his arm. Obediently, the wing behind him lifted off the ground, and in formation, winked _between_ to re-emerge over Telgar Hold.

_Tyrith, tell Fedeth that he's out of alignment, and tell him to tell C'nis to see me when we get back, _M'kai asked, before giving the signal to land but remain mounted. As Tyrith landed, M'kai swung himself down from the harness and slid down Tyrith's outstretched foreleg to land neatly on his feet next to Lord Larad, who was waiting for the report.

"We've checked right across the area Thread fell, my lord," M'kai said, taking off his helmet and shaking his hair free. _I really must get this cut again, _he absently thought to himself. "There was one burrow, but your groundcrews did a really good job of destroying it. We flamed it anyway, but it was very well done. Please pass my congratulations on to your teams."

"Thank you, M'kai, and your wing, too," said Larad, shaking his hand. "Can I offer you a cool drink, or something to eat?"

"Thank you for the offer, my lord, but we must return to the Weyr," M'kai replied, giving him a slight bow. "We are expected for a feast being held tonight for the Hatching of Camanth's latest clutch."

Hanrahan Weyr had now been established for nearly two Turns, and Drianne was happily settled in as the senior Weyrwoman. B'kennor was the Weyrleader, had been since the beginning, and was doing a fine job of it. With occasional advice from F'nor and Brekke, they ran Hanrahan smoothly and efficiently.

D'ron and M'kai both had their own wings and were B'kennor's main seconds, but with the end of Thread in sight, their duties were being greatly reduced from what they had originally been. Threadfall had been petering out for the past three months, and according to instruments on the _Yokohama_, would completely end in another two. Every Weyr was getting ready to celebrate, but the danger wasn't quite over, so riders still flew Thread, comforted by the thought that neither they nor their descendants would ever have to fly it again after the end of this Pass.

"This is the third-last Threadfall over Telgar land, but other wings have volunteered to fly those Falls, so the next time I see you, it should be socially, not on business!" M'kai joked, climbing Tyrith's shoulder and reseating himself. "Farewell, Lord Larad!"

"Farewell, Wingleader M'kai!" Larad called back, waving. He sheltered his face against the dust as the wing took off, then walked back up to the Hold, a spring in his step as he contemplated the end of a threat he had known all his life.

x

"Congratulations, new riders, on the beginning of a new life," B'kennor announced that night, when everyone was seated at the long tables, the new riders still in their white Impression robes with proud parents sitting nearby.

"You have begun your careers as dragonriders at the dawn of a new era; when our society can finally develop without the threat of Thread hanging over us. Dragonriders will play an instrumental part in this development."

"Especially me!" called M'kai cheekily, waving his pipe.

The room burst out laughing at the awful pun, and B'kennor roared for food. The weyrfolk who worked in the kitchens and some of the more junior riders began to carry out large platters heaped high with different foods, and the Impression feast really got underway.

As the conversation volume rose, M'kai saw Kirsty quietly slip away, and concerned by her troubled expression, followed her.

"Nice night, huh?" M'kai asked, coming up beside Kirsty and leaning on the waist-high rail that ran around the veranda of the Teaching Hall.

She jumped then, realising who it was, relaxed. "Large crowds tend to make me uncomfortable," she explained, leaning back onto the rail. "So I came out here. No one comes near the Teaching Hall except for lessons."

"No one except me," M'kai laughed.

She laughed too, and turned to gaze at him. "You know, I admire you for being able to speak up like you did back there," she said admiringly. "When I don't know the people around me, I can't even talk to one person, let alone the whole room."

"You didn't have any trouble talking to me when we first met," M'kai remarked, looking down at her. His eyes twinkled with mischief and starlight reflected off the bay, and she ached to put her arms around him, but she didn't dare.

"That's different," she retorted. "When I first saw you, you were unconscious and bleeding, and needed my help. Well, actually, Uncle's help, but I helped him, and it was me who soothed you when you cried out in your sleep that night. I think it was just a nightmare, but the fact that I could help you made you special to me. When you woke up, you proved to be really nice, and I instantly liked you. You were my first real friend," she admitted softly, staring at her feet. She looked up, expecting to see disbelief in his face, but to her amazement, she saw understanding.

"I used to be just like you, Kirsty," he said softly. "When I was little, I wouldn't speak a word to anyone except my family. I spent all my time with my father, but after he died, I was always alone. Dioron had other friends he played with, and I was welcome to play with them too, but I was too scared to go near them, so I wandered the cliffs by myself."

"How did you change?" she asked, fascinated. This was the first time she had heard M'kai talk about his past.

"I only changed when I met Drianne," he said with a slight smile. "I met her at a Gather in my eighth Turn. Well, she and Dioron met, and Di introduced her to me. She refused to let me stay in the shadows while everyone else played, and she gradually taught me to be myself without being scared someone would object."

"That's why you hide too, isn't it? You're scared someone will object to you being yourself," he said gently, tilting her chin up so she was looking at him.

Tears welled up in her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. "I… I just want to make friends, but I'm really scared that I'll do something wrong and they won't like me, so I avoid people to avoid making mistakes."

M'kai laughed softly, and brushed her tears away. "Kirsty, our entire lives, and those of everyone in Hold, Hall and Weyr, are about making mistakes. It's how we learn. And if people don't like you because you don't say exactly what they want you to, then they're not worth having as friends. Real friends like you for what you are, not what you do."

"Really?" she asked, her eyes wide with a childlike innocence.

"Promise," he replied with a smile.

"Thank you, M'kai," she said softly, a smile creeping onto her face. "You've really made my night." Suddenly, she stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then hurried away into the darkness looking both pleased and mortified.

M'kai blinked in surprise, then slowly leaned on the rail to gaze out across the bay, a smile beginning to spread across his face.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, and very encouraging! They've already gotten me out of one major sticky patch, and have helped me stitch up quite a few holes present elsewhere in this tale... 


	24. Kirsty

Extremely sorry, everyone! I started back at uni this week, so I've been a little busy, and unfortunately, my writing time has suffered because of it.

Today's disclaimer is brought to you by the virtual flies I was creating on Thursday.

* * *

"Did you hear the news, M'kai?" V'lan asked excitedly.

"What news, V'lan?" M'kai asked as he took the cup from his lips, trying to conceal a laugh at V'lan's enthusiasm.

"Cheriath is blooding her kill!" V'lan whispered.

They were at the summer Gather at Southern, and M'kai had just finished a set and was refreshing himself when V'lan arrived and dragged him over to a corner to speak. Cheriath's partner Alisa was one of the junior Weyrwomen at Ista.

"Are you coming?" he asked, leading the way out of the shadows. "We can make it in time if we leave now."

"I still have another set to do," M'kai said regretfully. "You go, and tell me about it later."

"You're going to miss out on a lot of fun, M'kai," V'lan said with a grin, then ran to the beach, where his brown Talleth was already landing.

"Enjoy yourself, V'lan!" M'kai roared after him as they took off and disappeared.

_Why do we not go to fly Cheriath? _Tyrith asked wistfully. _We both enjoy mating flights._

_I prefer to know the person first, _M'kai replied. _Besides, Alisa is much too old for me._

_Is Kirsty? _Tyrith asked.

_No, Kirsty is not too old, _M'kai sent back, amused at his dragon's cunning. Tyrith knew that M'kai had been thinking of Kirsty a lot lately.

_Good, because Camanth says that Aredath is blooding her kill and Drianne asks would we please come, _Tyrith said matter-of-factly.

"_What!_" M'kai yelped, attracting odd looks from passers-by. "Why didn't you tell me, you overgrown lizard?"

_You did not ask, _Tyrith said smugly.

_Get down here NOW,_ M'kai ordered.

x

"Where is she?" M'kai asked, bursting into the room.

Drianne looked up at the sound of his entrance, and smiled when she saw who it was. "Kirsty's already in the room, so you'd better tell Tyrith to get down to the hunting grounds. Everyone's just waiting for Aredath to finish."

"He's on his way," M'kai said breathlessly, his eyes briefly unfocusing as he passed on the information on to Tyrith. "Thanks for calling me back."

As he strode towards the room set aside for mating flights, Drianne called after him, "Of course I called you back. You're my friend, and I know you've been waiting for this."

"Besides," she added quietly to herself, "she wouldn't go in until I told her you were coming. She loves you, M'kai. She'll be miserable with anyone else."

x

M'kai quietly closed the door behind him and turned to find a semicircle of male riders around Kirsty, who was backed up against the wall, obviously terrified. Her eyes brightened as she caught sight of him, and she smiled, but the smile dissolved as there came a roar from outside and M'kai felt Tyrith launch himself into the air after Aredath, the others half a breath behind.

"I'm here for you, Kirsty," M'kai murmured, moving forward.

"I know you are," she replied softly. "You always have been, ever since I met you."

That was the last opportunity they had for coherent conversation, as they were caught up in the primeval emotions of the great beasts they rode.

x

"I knew it would be you, M'kai," Kirsty said much later, when they were still lying in each other's arms. "As soon as you walked in, I knew. It just couldn't be anyone else."

"I felt the same way," M'kai said softly, running his fingers through her hair. "I wasn't going to let anyone else have you. Not for all of Pern."

He sighed, and made to get up, but Kirsty pulled him back down. "Can't we stay here for a little while longer?" she murmured, trailing her fingers down his arm.

"Maybe a little while," he readily agreed, bending to kiss her again.

Suddenly, the door was flung open and B'kennor burst in. Kirsty blushed scarlet and hid under the covers of the bed, but M'kai just looked up and said, "Hello, B'kennor. What's the matter?"

"I've got some fantastic news!" B'kennor shouted happily, and danced over to him. "Drianne just told me she's going to have a baby!"

"That's wonderful news, B'kennor, but don't you think you could have waited?" M'kai asked dryly, looking pointedly at Kirsty.

This time, it was B'kennor's turn to blush, and he began to babble apologies, but M'kai just laughed and waved them off. "Next time you burst in on me unannounced, do you think you could do it at some time of the day when I'm _not _busy?" he said with a smile.

B'kennor smiled too, and began to roar with laughter. "I'm sorry, M'kai," he wheezed. "Drianne told me you were in here, and she did try to stop me, but I didn't listen. Next time, I'll pay a little bit more attention." He doubled over with laughter, and M'kai joined him.

x

"There are three more Falls left that are in our territory, so we'll draw for which wings fly them," B'kennor announced the next night at dinner, holding up a riding helmet. "In this helmet, there are enough papers for every wingleader in this room. Most are blank, but three of them have the site of a Fall written on them. The wingleaders who draw these slips will fly the Fall their slip says."

"Sounds fair," D'ron remarked. "Who wants to draw first?"

"Well, since you've spoken up, big brother, I think you should," said M'kai, grinning.

The room started laughing as D'ron, smiling at his brother's quick wit, stood and took a paper from B'kennor's helmet. "You could have washed the helmet out first, B'kennor!" he said in mock disgust, holding the paper away from him. More laughter followed him back to his seat, then the other wingleaders drew, one by one.

"Who got the Falls?" B'kennor asked.

"I did," called K'tim, Kirsty's wingleader.

"So did I," called M'kai, giving Kirsty a quick squeeze. They had been inseparable all day, and he had had his arm around her most of the meal.

"Me too," called J'nin, waving the slip around excitedly.

Looking around at all the disappointed faces around him, M'kai added, "Anyone who wants to fly one of the last Threadfalls is welcome to join my wing."

"In that case, why don't we just split the Weyr into three groups and _all_ fly?" D'ron asked. "That way, everyone gets to fly Thread, and no one is left out."

"That sounds like a good idea to me, D'ron," B'kennor said. "Does anyone have any objections?" There was a complete silence. "Good," B'kennor said, nodding in satisfaction. "We'll let the three who drew the slips head the groups. Drianne will divide the Weyr, and the groups will be posted by the end of the sevenday."

* * *

Sorry, short chapter. The next one will be too, as it just happens to be where a natural break falls. 


	25. Disaster

I'm getting better at remembering to update. Guess I'm settling back into the routine.

Even if I changed my name, I still wouldn't be the real Anne McCaffrey.

* * *

"Ready to fly, my friends? For the last time?" M'kai called.

"Yes!" the enormous group behind him roared.

"Then let's go!" M'kai cried, pumping his arm. As one, one third of Hanrahan Weyr took to the sky. J'nin's team had already fought off Thread over Paradise River Hold and the Dolphin Hall, but M'kai's Fall was over the Weyr itself.

"Thread!" came the cry from the lookout, and instantly, great dragon heads turned to accept firestone from their riders, crunching it into pebbles small enough to swallow, while the queen riders checked the nozzles on their flamethrower tanks. M'kai sighed in contentment as Tyrith swallowed the first lump and asked for another. Fighting Thread always made him feel truly alive.

"Everyone to their position!" he roared, and obediently, the oversized wing manoeuvred so each pair had a clear space around themselves to flame Thread without injuring another dragon. It had taken M'kai quite a while to plot all the positions, but it was paying off now. No dragon would be scorched by another in _his _wing!

_The upper wings have made contact, _Tyrith reported.

_Very good, _M'kai replied. _Any problems?_

_No, _Tyrith answered. _Everything is going according to plan._

Then there was little time for reports as Thread descended to their level and they had to put all their concentration into fighting.

_Be careful, Tyrith! _M'kai cried. _The wind's sending it into tangles._

_Makes it easier to flame, _Tyrith said smugly, searing a clump to char that flew back into M'kai's face and made him cough.

_Are you all right? _Tyrith asked, instantly contrite. _I didn't mean for that to happen._

"I'm fine," M'kai choked, removing his goggles to wipe his streaming eyes.

Suddenly Tyrith roared and jerked, and M'kai was flung against his harness, the strap biting into his thigh. "_Tyrith!_" he screamed, the sensation of pain he was receiving from the bronze driving everything else out of his head.

_I've been hit! _Tyrith screamed. _My wing is on fire!_

Reacting to pure instinct, Tyrith flicked _between_, then re-emerged in the air above the Weyr. M'kai checked his dragon's wings, and gasped in horror when he saw that Tyrith's left wing had been nearly shredded. _I'll get help, big guy, _he reassured Tyrith.

_Tyrith, what's wrong?_ M'kai heard Brekke ask Tyrith, her voice soothing, trying to calm him down.

_I'm falling! _Tyrith roared.

_Tyrith's been badly hit. We need a rescue crew, _M'kai sent via Tyrith, trying not to panic.

_On the way, _Brekke replied.

Within seconds, three dragons had lifted up from the Weyr and were speeding towards them. M'kai could just make out D'ron and Jarrath in the lead, D'ron's face grim.

"D'ron!" M'kai cried.

"M'kai! Unbuckle your harness!" he shouted. "We need to get you off Tyrith!"

M'kai nodded, and undid the straps that held him in place. He stroked Tyrith's neck, whispering comfort, then slid off into D'ron's waiting arms. He gave D'ron a brief but fierce hug, then turned to look at Tyrith. From here, his injury looked even worse, and M'kai felt ill at the sight.

"B'kennor, you and Dioanth get underneath Tyrith and support him," D'ron called. "J'nin and I will guard you." Faint cries indicated that he had been heard and understood, and the three dragons moved into position. M'kai felt agonising pain as Tyrith's tattered wing came to rest on that of the bigger bronze beneath him, then he and Tyrith both passed out.

x

"M'kai!" D'ron said in alarm, then relaxed a little as he realised his brother was only unconscious. Tyrith was losing a lot of ichor, and it was not unknown for a dragon to die from such injuries and for their rider to follow them into death.

"Is he all right?" B'kennor called from Timith's neck. There was no room for him to stay on Dioanth while he had Tyrith on his back.

"He's as well as can be expected, B'kennor," D'ron called back. "He doesn't seem to be injured, if that's what you mean."

"Let's get them back down to the ground!" J'nin called, pointing downwards. "Brekke's got everything set up for a wing reconstruction, and Kirsty's waiting for news of M'kai."

"Down we go then!" D'ron shouted.

They started their descent, Timith and Jarrath occasionally flaming random clumps of Thread that got through the upper levels. Odd updrafts buffeted them around, and Dioanth came perilously close to dropping Tyrith, but the disaster was averted by a quick nudge from Timith.

"Nice catch, J'nin!" D'ron called, giving him a thumbs-up.

He was then forced to grab for his straps as Jarrath caught his wing tip on a cliff and tipped off balance. He let out a yell as Jarrath fell beneath him, and M'kai was tossed into the air, landing halfway down Jarrath's back.

"D'ron! Are you all right?" B'kennor called anxiously.

"I've got to get M'kai!" D'ron called, and unbuckled his harness. Getting his balance, he crawled along Jarrath's back, using the wingridges that ran down his spine as handholds. He reached M'kai, but as he stretched out towards his unconscious brother, M'kai began to slide off, and D'ron was forced to lunge for him, barely catching the wingridges with his feet.

"Help!" he screamed. J'nin and B'kennor attempted to get in close enough to reach them, and Jarrath tried to roll to help, but there just wasn't enough space. D'ron felt his grip slipping, and screamed again.

_Help comes, _Jarrath called. _Brekke has asked Ruth to come._ _He is the only one of us small enough to help._

It was only a momentary diversion, a slight slackening of his grip, but it was enough for M'kai's gloves to slip off his hands and for M'kai himself to plummet towards the ground. D'ron screamed, then to his horror, felt himself slipping as well. He tried to turn and grab one of Jarrath's wingridges, but it was too late, and D'ron felt himself follow his brother in a fall that would surely kill them, his own terrified scream and the shouts of his friends echoing in his ears.

* * *

I'm afraid this was another short chapter, but it was the perfect place to leave it: cliffhanger! Or should that be dragonhanger? 


	26. It's All My Fault!

Mwahahaha! I know I'm evil for having a cliffhanger then not updating for a few days, but I've been uber-tired, so I apologise and update now!

Pern ain't mine.

* * *

"Will he be all right?" he heard someone ask.

"He should be. I'm more worried about his brother," a crisp voice answered.

With an enormous effort, M'kai forced his eyes open, and found himself staring into a pair of startled blue eyes.

"He's awake!" the owner of the eyes squeaked, and scuttled out of view. M'kai, staring at what he vaguely recognised as the ceiling of his weyr, wondered where they had gone, but a woman bent over him and he forgot about the eyes.

"Bronze rider M'kai?" she asked. It was her voice he had heard before. "I am Journeywoman Helida, from the Healer Hall. Do you remember what happened?"

M'kai tried to think back, but it was like looking through fog. Suddenly the mist parted to reveal something important. "Tyrith!" he cried, trying to sit up. "Tyrith's been hurt!"

Helida pushed him back down again, and M'kai was appalled at how easily she did so. "Tyrith has been treated, and is healing nicely. He'll recover, but not soon. You won't be able to ride him for at least a month."

"But he'll fly again?" M'kai asked anxiously. He couldn't bear to be earthbound forever!

"Yes, he'll fly again," Helida said reassuringly.

Then something she had said before registered. "Did something happen to D'ron? I heard you say 'I'm more worried about his brother', and the last thing I remember was D'ron catching me."

Her face fell. "I wasn't planning to tell you this until you were much stronger, but when you and Tyrith were hurt, D'ron was injured trying to save you. You both fell from Jarrath, and though the bushes you fell into cushioned your landings, you cracked three ribs and bruised yourself all over. D'ron, however, fractured his skull and broke his leg so badly that he'll probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life," she explained gently.

M'kai stared at her in shock. "Never walk properly again?" he whispered. "And it's all my fault! If I had been paying closer attention to what I was doing instead of worrying about my wing, none of this would have happened, and D'ron and Tyrith wouldn't have been hurt!"

He turned his face away from her, trying to hide his tears. "It's all my fault!" he muttered angrily.

x

"Helida told me that you think it's your fault that Tyrith and D'ron were injured," Drianne said.

M'kai continued staring at the ceiling, and refused to answer. His anger at himself had turned to bitterness, and he would talk to no one, not even Kirsty, who was nearly frantic with worry over her lover.

"From what Jarrath told Brekke, Tyrith was distracted when you got a mouthful of char because of what he did, and D'ron's fall was through no fault of yours. You were unconscious at the time; how could you be responsible?"

"He wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me," M'kai choked, a lump in his throat. "And Tyrith wouldn't have been hit if I hadn't had my mouth gaping open like a halfwit at a Gather."

"Do you think that no one's ever swallowed char before? Even the great F'lar's done that one; Lessa told me about it. Don't beat yourself up because you're not perfect, M'kai. Nobody is, so don't expect it of yourself."

"It's still my fault," M'kai said stubbornly. "I made him fall. J'nin told me what happened. He was trying to save me from falling, and he slipped and went over too."

"Fine!" Drianne snapped, her patience running out. "If you want to believe that the accidents were your fault, go ahead! No one else is placing any blame on anyone, so you can keep it all for yourself without the risk of someone contradicting you. I hope you're happy with yourself, Mordekai of Fer Hold! You are worrying several people half to death and slowing Tyrith's recovery with this senseless obsession with guilt, so you'd better get over it soon. For all our sakes." She stood up, sniffed at him, and turned to leave.

"Now that's not fair…" he began, pushing himself up, only to fall back with a cry. His ribs were still healing, and together with the bruises made moving rather painful.

"Oh, M'kai, I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I meant to provoke you into snapping out of this black mood you've been in, but I went too far. I didn't mean to physically hurt you."

"Ah, so emotional hurt's all right?" he said dryly, beating back the pain.

"Well, I…" she began, then realised he was joking. "All right, M'kai, I'll admit I was wrong, but only if you do."

"Agreed," he said warmly. "Now, where are D'ron and Tyrith? And is Jarrath all right?"

"Jarrath's physically fine, but he's worried sick over D'ron," Drianne explained. "Tyrith's just outside."

"Let's go see him then," M'kai said. "Give me a hand, will you?"

"Helida said that you're not to move for at least another sevenday," Drianne said with a frown. "And you just demonstrated that you aren't capable of getting up, let alone walking."

"That's why I asked for help. Who cares if I can't walk? I'll crawl if I have to! I just need to see Tyrith," M'kai pleaded.

"Well… all right," Drianne said, relenting before his pleading expression. "But just to Tyrith."

She helped him sit up, then pulled him to his feet and placed his arm over her shoulder. M'kai bit his lip so hard that he nearly drew blood to prevent himself fainting, and gave Drianne a nod. Together, they slowly shuffled towards the entrance of M'kai's weyr.

On the ground outside, under the shelter M'kai had designed to give Tyrith a bit of protection from the elements, lay his bronze, deeply asleep. Tyrith's wing was heavily swathed in bandages from the shoulder down, and M'kai's eyes filled with tears to see it.

"Oh, my dearest Tyrith!" he sobbed, burying his face in the dragon's soft hide, ignoring the stabbing pain from his ribs.

_M'kai?_ came a sleepy voice. _Is that you?_

_Yes, Tyrith, it's me,_ he responded, overjoyed to hear his voice. _How are you feeling?_

_I feel no pain, but I cannot feel my wing at all, _Tyrith replied._ Brekke and others often come to change the bandages and put on fresh numbweed, and I have many visitors._

_Can you speak to Jarrath and ask him how D'ron is?_ M'kai asked anxiously, worried for his brother.

Tyrith listened for a moment, then said, _Jarrath says that D'ron still sleeps, but Jarrath is worried. D'ron has not woken up for three days._

"Three days!" M'kai exclaimed aloud. "We've been asleep for _three days_?"

"Actually, five, but D'ron briefly woke up three days ago to ask about you before he passed out again," Drianne explained. "I had Camanth listen in," she added when she noticed M'kai's enquiring look.

M'kai sat for a moment, his head bowed, then his head came up and he focused on Drianne. "I need to see D'ron. Don't say anything about me not being strong enough, or the deal we made. I need to see my brother." His voice was flat, and brooked no argument.

Drianne hesitated, then said softly, "Of course. I understand the importance of family."

She heaved him to his feet again and held him while he swayed, then they set off for D'ron's weyr. Luckily, it was fairly close, but even so, they had to make three stops so M'kai could catch his breath and hug his ribs. He felt like they were going to crumble into a thousand pieces, but he _had_ to see D'ron.

As they approached the entrance of D'ron's weyr, Helida came through the beaded curtain that served as D'ron's front door. She frowned when she saw M'kai, and put her hands on her hips.

"And what are you doing out of bed?" she demanded.

"I needed to see Tyrith and D'ron," he gasped, pushing himself off Drianne so he was standing on his own.

Helida opened her mouth to argue, but after taking a look at his determined face, shut it again. "All right," she said reluctantly. "But only for a minute."

M'kai gave her a nod of gratitude and pushed his way past her into D'ron's weyr. The windows were all shuttered, so for a moment he had difficulty seeing anything. When his eyes had adjusted to the gloom however, he could just make out a figure lying in the bed.

M'kai stumbled over to the bed to drop to his knees beside it. He went to touch D'ron's face, but stopped as his fingers encountered bandages. He felt around a little more, and realised that his entire head was covered in them.

"Oh, D'ron!" M'kai sobbed. "What have I done to you?" He then put his face on the bed, and cried his heart out.

* * *

Ah, angst! Please review; I need something to look forward to after uni!


	27. Silence

Wow, twenty-seven chapters already... well, sort of 'already'. I know I haven't updated recently, but I've been busy researching vampires. Please forgive me!

Insert usual disclaimer.

* * *

"Have you seen M'kai or D'ron today?" B'kennor asked Drianne over dinner. "I meant to drop in sometime during the day, but I've been really busy. I never actually realised how much M'kai and D'ron do around here!"

"They take care of a lot of the everyday stuff. For example, I know M'kai takes care of food and medical supplies," she said absently, toying with her meal.

"What's the matter?" B'kennor asked.

"When I saw M'kai today, he was blaming himself for D'ron and Tyrith being injured, and he was in an 'end of the world' mood like he was when Diara died, but worse. He wasn't crying, but he's refusing to talk to anyone, even Kirsty, and he's been really bitter. I think I snapped him out of it, but Journeywoman Helida tells me that he cried for hours on D'ron's bed and she had to get J'nin to carry him back to his own weyr," Drianne admitted, putting down her fork. "I'm really worried about him."

"He'll get over it," B'kennor said reassuringly. "Remember that time that young blue rider got injured in his wing? He was upset about it for days, but he eventually got over it."

"But this hurt runs much deeper than a weyrling not ducking quickly enough," she pointed out.

"Then it will probably just take a bit longer for him to get over it," B'kennor said, loading his fork and transferring it to his mouth. "You'll see."

x

Time passed, and soon, Tyrith was completely healed, but found it difficult to balance as well as he once had. He would until he flew again, but M'kai seemed to have developed a fear of flying, and would not get off the ground. Tyrith, of course, refused to fly without his rider.

M'kai still refused to talk to anyone, and not a word had passed his lips since he had cried himself out on D'ron's bed. He wouldn't sing or even play anymore, and everyone missed the sound of music that usually came floating on the wind from the Teaching Hall or his quarters. He had completely shut himself off from the outside world, and those who attempted to speak with him felt that he stared right through them and didn't hear a word they said.

"So much for him getting over it," Drianne remarked to B'kennor dryly, watching M'kai bathe Tyrith one evening. Even when he thought he was alone with just his dragon for company, M'kai didn't make a sound.

"All right, so I may have been wrong about him getting over it," B'kennor admitted, running his fingers through his hair. "Maybe he needs some help."

"Maybe he just needs to talk to someone about it," said a familiar voice behind them. They both spun to find D'ron hobbling towards them with the aid of a staff.

"D'ron! Should you be out of bed?" Drianne exploded, moving forward in case she needed to catch him.

"Well, Helida said I could go for a short walk," he said with a shrug. "I guess we have different ideas of short."

"Very different, my friend," B'kennor said, giving him an arm to lean on. "Maybe you should sit."

"Not a bad idea," D'ron laughed, though he sounded exhausted. B'kennor helped him lower himself until he was sitting with his back against a nearby redfruit tree, facing the bay.

"You said 'maybe he just needs to talk to someone about it,'" said B'kennor. "Who did you have in mind?"

"Me, dimglow!" D'ron said, rolling his eyes at B'kennor's slow thinking.

"I wish you would. He hasn't spoken to anyone in a month," said Drianne anxiously.

"He'll speak to me," D'ron said determinedly.

"Hey, M'kai!" he called. "Come up here!"

M'kai looked over his shoulder towards the beach. Spying D'ron, he gave a half-hearted wave and began trudging up the beach, looking thoroughly dejected.

"What's wrong, little brother?" D'ron asked as he came within earshot. "Drianne and B'kennor tell me you haven't spoken to anyone in a month. You're worrying them to death!"

M'kai gazed at them blankly, and Drianne nearly gasped when she saw his eyes. They were lifeless, lacking the spark and intelligence that had always characterised them.

"M'kai?" Drianne said hesitantly, not quite knowing what to say.

There was a brief flicker in his eyes, as though he had recognised her voice, then they clouded over and became dull again.

"M'kai. Please don't blame yourself for what happened. It wasn't your fault we were injured, and it was just unlucky about Tyrith. Thousands of dragons are scored in their lifetime, but their riders are no less than those of unscored dragons," D'ron said gently.

M'kai turned to face him, but he showed no sign that he knew that it was his brother talking. For all the expression his face showed, he might have been listening to the waves on the beach.

"It was my last chance," he suddenly croaked, his voice dry and harsh from disuse. Drianne and B'kennor nearly jumped in surprise. "My last chance to fight Thread, and I blew it. I not only ruined it for myself and Tyrith, but for you and Jarrath too. And now, Helida says that you'll walk with a limp for the rest of your life, and Tyrith will never fly again as he once did," he said, his voice breaking in his distress.

D'ron sat very still for a moment, composing himself. He hadn't yet been told about the improbability of him ever walking normally again, and it had come as a bit of a shock. "It's still not your fault, M'kai," he said at last, pulling himself together. "Accidents happen."

"Yes, but everything always happens to the ones I love, and I'm always spared," M'kai cried. His knees seemed to give way, and he fell face forward into the sand. "I'm always spared!" he screamed, and beat his fists upon the ground while tears streamed down his cheeks.

D'ron leaned forward to pat him on the back, then stroked his hair as M'kai finally released the guilt and grief he had kept contained for a month and let it pour out onto the sand with his tears. B'kennor and Drianne, feeling like intruders as they witnessed this personal scene, glanced at each other and by silent accord quietly left, leaving the brothers alone.

* * *

Hope to update again before the end of the week. Apologies for the short chapters lately; they just seem to break that way! 


	28. Flight

I seem to have been apologising a lot lately, so apologies for the apologies! Sorry, couldn't resist. Anyway, on to the story!

Pern is not mine, no matter how much I pretend it is.

* * *

In the morning, Drianne and B'kennor went over to D'ron's weyr to find out what had happened after they left yesterday. Neither D'ron nor M'kai had come to dinner last night, and they were anxious to find out what had been the result of yesterday's talk.

"Do you think M'kai is back to normal?" Drianne asked B'kennor.

"There's only one way to find out," he said soberly, and quietly knocked on the doorframe.

"Come in," D'ron called, so they parted the fronds that served as his front door and stepped through into his weyr. The window shutters were thrown open, and the early sunlight poured in, making the very air sparkle.

"Good morning!" D'ron said brightly, waving them in. "Have a cup of klah with me."

"That sounds nice," said Drianne appreciatively, sinking onto one of the long low couches that furnished D'ron's front room.

"Very nice," added B'kennor. "I went out on a sweep this morning, and I didn't have time for any before I left."

"Then be my guests, and join me for breakfast!" D'ron laughed, moving into the kitchen and opening the cupboards. "Helida restocked my cupboards for me yesterday, because she's decided that I am capable of taking care of myself. Either that, or she couldn't put up with my complaining any longer," he added thoughtfully, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

They all laughed, and D'ron made up a platter of fruits, fish and breads and a jug of klah. He brought it over to the others and, setting on the central table, invited everyone to help themselves.

"So, have you seen M'kai this morning?" Drianne asked, tearing off a hunk of bread.

D'ron paused with an impromptu fish sandwich halfway to his mouth. "He hasn't been to see you?" he said slowly.

Drianne and B'kennor exchanged looks, and she replied, "No. Why? Should he have?"

"When we spoke last night, I told him to go see you in the morning, to resume his duties as Weyrsinger," D'ron explained, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "Why hasn't he done it?"

"Maybe he's still asleep," B'kennor suggested, reaching for some fruit.

"He's always been an early riser," said D'ron, shaking his head.

"He was very reluctant to do it last night, but I convinced him. Actually," he said suddenly, "I didn't convince him. He just suddenly gave in." He jumped to his feet. "I should have known there was something wrong," he muttered. "M'kai never gives in that easily!"

Drianne and B'kennor also jumped to their feet, worried by his expression. "What's wrong?" Drianne asked urgently.

"I need to find M'kai!" D'ron said, and whirled, heading for the door, pausing only to snatch up his stick. The others hurried after him.

"What's the matter, D'ron? He's probably just still asleep!" B'kennor said, hurrying to catch up with him.

"I'm just worried. It's not like him to promise to do something and then not do it," said D'ron, lengthening his strides as far as he was able. The limp was painfully obvious, B'kennor sadly noted.

They soon reached M'kai's weyr, and to their alarm, Tyrith was not under his shelter. "Maybe he went out for an early morning flight?" B'kennor suggested weakly, but closed his mouth when the other two looked at him.

"M'kai!" D'ron called, limping up the shallow steps to M'kai's home. He burst through the doorway and, after a quick glance round the front room, headed for the back of the house, where M'kai's bedroom and music room were.

"Where can he be?" Drianne asked B'kennor as they hurried through the door together.

"I don't know. Maybe D'ron's found him," he replied, nearly running down the hallway to the back rooms. He had a quick look in M'kai's bedroom, then continued onwards, until he came skidding to a halt in the doorway of M'kai's music room.

There, he found D'ron on his knees, tears leaking down his face as he read a piece of paper he held clenched in his fist. "D'ron?" B'kennor asked tentatively. "What's wrong?"

D'ron turned to face him. "M'kai's gone," he said dully, letting the paper fall.

"'Gone?' Gone where?" B'kennor asked in amazement.

"He says that he's leaving!" exclaimed Drianne. She had crouched and picked up the paper, and was now reading it. "He feels really guilty about the accident, and needs to be alone for a while so he can get his head around it. He apologises for his behaviour for the last month and asks us to explain to Kirsty and tell her he's sorry for everything. But he doesn't say when he'll be back."

"I drove him away by trying to force him out of his guilt before he was ready," choked D'ron, scrubbing at his tear-soaked cheeks.

"It wasn't your fault, D'ron!" said Drianne compassionately. "You didn't know he would react like this!"

"I should have! He's my brother!" D'ron cried.

"He is also old enough to take care of himself," B'kennor said, squatting and putting a hand on his shoulder. "He'll be all right, D'ron. We all know that. You just need to accept it."

D'ron just buried his face in B'kennor's shoulder and cried.

x

"Drianne?" Kirsty called, knocking on the door to Drianne and B'kennor's weyr. "Are you in?"

"Yes, Kirsty, I'm here," Drianne called. "Come in."

"Aredath said that Camanth said that you wanted to see me," Kirsty explained, seating herself opposite Drianne. "So I came straight here."

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Drianne said apologetically.

"I was just swimming with the dolphins," she said, pushing her still-wet hair off her face. "And you'll never guess what they told me!"

"What did they tell you?" Drianne asked, eager to avoid telling her about M'kai.

"Booj told me that I'm going to have a baby! I haven't told M'kai yet, but I'm so excited that I had to tell someone!" Kirsty exclaimed, her eyes alight with excitement.

"A baby?" Drianne repeated, her voice suddenly hollow.

"Yes!" Kirsty said happily, clapping her hands together. "What's the matter? You don't sound very happy for me," she added plaintively.

"Oh, I am, Kirsty. It's just… well…" Drianne said awkwardly.

Kirsty waited for her to speak, but Drianne couldn't find the words, so eventually she just thrust the letter M'kai had left at her and motioned that she read it. Puzzled, Kirsty did, and her eyes widened with each line. Finally, she looked up at Drianne.

"He left without saying goodbye," she said simply. "Why would he do that?" Then she put her face into her hands and cried as her world came crashing down around her.

* * *

Reviews make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Please help contribute to this feeling and help stave off both class-itis and writer's block.


	29. Mysterious Events

It's been three Turns since the events of the last chapter. Sorry about yet another time-skip.

Pern belongs to a genius, and I sure as hell don't fit into that category.

* * *

"Thanks for all your help today, D'ron," said Callame gratefully. "We couldn't have got the Hold back up without you and your wing. I can't think what would have made it collapse like that. The holder's family has lived here for generations, and nothing like this has ever happened before."

Breakfast at Hanrahan Weyr had been interrupted that morning by a distressed fire lizard appearing to deliver a message to Drianne. Drianne had called D'ron over and told him that the Hold where her friend Callame was stationed had collapsed during the night. D'ron immediately called together his wing and they had all gone to help.

When they arrived, people were trying to dig through the rubble, and D'ron was told that the holder's second son was missing. He ordered the people out of the way, then got Jarrath to dig. The boy was recovered safely, and a rider was sent to the Healer Hall to fetch healers for those who had been injured. The weyrfolk and the holders worked hard all day, but were well rewarded when the end of the day came and the Hold stood as strong and proud as the day it was first built.

"I'm just glad we could help out, Callame," D'ron said graciously, and limping slightly more than usual, made his way to Jarrath.

_Are you all right, D'ron? _he asked anxiously, stretching his neck down to meet his rider.

_Just exhausted,_ D'ron replied. _You know I limp more when I'm tired._

"How is everyone at Hanrahan?" Callame asked, pouring him a mug of klah. "I heard that Drianne had a baby; is that true?"

D'ron smiled. "Yes. She and B'kennor have a three Turn old boy named Kennoran, and a new daughter named Riannor, who's only six sevendays old."

"Well, she's been busy!" he laughed. "Has M'kai turned up yet?"

D'ron's face fell. "Not yet," he said quietly. "No one's heard anything from him in three Turns. He's never even seen his son."

"That's so sad, isn't it," Callame said sadly. "I hope little Kirkai gets to meet his father one day."

"So do I, Callame. So do I," D'ron agreed, and handing him back the cup, vaulted to Jarrath's neck. "Thanks for the klah!" he called. "Goodbye!"

"Goodbye!" Callame called, waving, as D'ron gave the signal to lift off and the whole wing sprang aloft and flicked _between_.

x

"Uncle 'Ron! Uncle 'Ron!"

D'ron smiled when he heard his young nephew calling his name as he spiralled in on Jarrath. Kirkai hadn't mastered the use of rider's names yet, though otherwise he spoke quite clearly. _M'kai would have been proud of him, _D'ron thought a trifle sadly, scanning the ground for the boy.

As Jarrath backwinged and landed, a small boy came tearing out of the surrounding undergrowth. "Uncle 'Ron!" he shouted happily.

"Kirkai!" D'ron called back, and waved. He threw his leg over Jarrath's neck and slid to the ground, grimacing as his landing jarred his sore leg.

"Are you OK, Uncle 'Ron?" he asked, his green eyes, so much like M'kai's that they tore at D'ron's heart, opening wide. "You don't look like you can walk proper."

"Properly," D'ron corrected, wincing as he tried to put weight on his leg. The short flight had seized up the muscles and made it immovable. "Can you please ask your mother for Uncle 'Ron's walking stick and bring it here for me?"

"OK!" he yelled, and turning tail, fled down the path to the weyr the three of them shared. D'ron leaned against Jarrath and massaged his stiff leg as he waited for Kirkai to return. When he did, Kirsty came with him, a faint shadow of anxiety creasing her brows. Since M'kai had left, she had become very fragile, both physically and emotionally. She looked like the sun could shine through her, and would burst into tears if a leaf fell.

"Are you all right, D'ron?" she asked anxiously, hurrying up and checking him.

"Just my leg playing up again," he said with a quick smile to reassure her. "I worked a little too much today, and it's seized up."

Her frown lessened, but didn't completely disappear. "You shouldn't push yourself so hard," she scolded, giving him his walking stick. "I'll help you down to the weyr, then you can put some numbweed on it."

"Thanks, Kirsty," he said warmly, and gladly took the shoulder she offered. Jarrath crooned at him, and he sent a silent reassurance to the big bronze as he slowly made his way home.

x

"Are Callame and the rest of the Hold all right?" Drianne asked, pouring D'ron a cup of klah.

He took a sip and sighed in contentment, then answered her. "They were all fine when I left. Most of them were bruised or had minor cuts, but there was nothing serious except the holder's son, who broke an arm, but the healer took care of that."

"And how is Callame?" she asked, settling back into the couch. "I haven't seen him since I left the Harper Hall."

"He looked great, considering the fact that the Hold had just collapsed. He recently got espoused, and I met her while I was there," said D'ron, taking another sip. "She seems nice."

Drianne gave him a slightly exasperated look. "And when are _you_ going to find someone nice?" she asked. "You deserve to have a nice girl."

"I'll find someone," he replied, smiling slightly. "Sooner or later." Drianne had trying to set him up with various girls for more than a Turn, but he hadn't met any that he'd really liked.

"Kirkai deserves an aunt to spoil him," she said slyly.

D'ron put the cup down, his face expressionless. "Kirkai also deserves a father," he said flatly, and standing, limped from the room. Drianne bit her lip and wished she hadn't said anything.

x

"Have you read the latest reports, D'ron?" B'kennor asked, waving a sheaf of papers in his direction. "Some holders down on the east coast are complaining that a dragon sank one of their fishing sloops!"

"How could that have happened?" asked D'ron, striding over to take the papers and flick through them.

"They say that a dragon deliberately hit them and caused their ship to capsize," said B'kennor wearily. "I don't know how it could have happened. None of our riders would do anything like that. Nor anyone else's."

"With your permission, I might head over there and see what I can find," said D'ron thoughtfully. "See if any of them can give me a description or something."

"Go ahead," B'kennor said, waving a hand. "There's nothing happening here at the moment. Actually, I might come with you. It's been a while since I found the time for a decent flight, apart from sweepriding. Drianne can handle anything that comes up."

D'ron smiled. "Let's go then!"

x

"So, you're the captain of the ship that sank?" B'kennor asked.

The heavyset man clasped his head and said, "Aye, I'm he. Never heard of a dragon doing anything like that before. Do you know who it was?"

"We're trying to find out, but we need a description of either the dragon or rider," D'ron explained. "Can you help us?"

"Well, I couldn't see the rider too well, 'cause it was getting dark and me eyes don't see as well as they used to, but the dragon was a big bronze, with Thread scars all over his shoulder. Looks like he got hit pretty badly, once upon a time," the captain replied. "Now, my spouse is expecting me for dinner, so I'll take me leave. Hope you find that bilge rat soon."

B'kennor thanked the captain, who nodded and headed back to his hut by the sea, then turned to D'ron. To his surprise, D'ron appeared to be frozen in place. "D'ron?" B'kennor asked, and waved a hand in front of his face. "You OK?"

"Do you realise who that dragon sounded like?" D'ron whispered.

"Who?" B'kennor asked.

"It sounded like Tyrith!" D'ron said in anguish.

"D'ron, it may not be him. Plenty of bronze dragons have been scored on the shoulder. Let's check it out before you jump to the wrong conclusion," B'kennor suggested, squeezing his upper arm in an effort to comfort him.

D'ron sagged. "You're right, B'kennor," he mumbled. "It may not have been him."

x

"It had to have been him," D'ron said, squeezing his eyes shut in despair. "We've checked every Weyr for a Thread-scarred bronze, and no other dragon matches that description."

"The captain said that it was getting dark and that his eyes aren't as good any more," said B'kennor comfortingly. "Maybe he didn't see a bronze at all."

"But the only other three dragons with Thread-scarred shoulders are two greens and a blue, and even in dim light, it would be hard to mistake one of them for a bronze," D'ron said heavily. "If only I could _talk_ to M'kai. Ask him if he knows anything about it."

"Have you asked Jarrath if he can contact Tyrith?" B'kennor asked.

D'ron sighed. "Every day," he replied quietly. "And every day the answer is the same. He can sense Tyrith is alive, but he can't tell me where he is."

B'kennor opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was died on his tongue as a terrified scream ripped through the tropical night. His face ashen, D'ron jumped up from his chair. "That was Kirsty!" he said hoarsely, and quickly limped out through the door. B'kennor, his face grim, followed him into a world of fire.

"Kirsty?" D'ron called, trying to peer through the smoke. "Kirsty, where are you?"

"I'm over here, D'ron!" they heard her cry. "By the drumtower!"

D'ron hurried to the drumtower M'kai had set up when the Weyr was first built, and was going so fast he nearly crashed into Kirsty before he saw her. A silent Kirkai was wrapped in a blanket in her arms, his eyes wide with fright.

"Are you both all right? What's happening?" D'ron asked, raising his voice to be heard over the panicked yells now coming from nearby weyrs.

"I woke up and smelt smoke, so I came out to see what was happening," she choked, tears streaming down her face. "I looked back towards our weyr, and saw a dragon in the sky flaming it! I screamed and ran back in for Kirkai, then you arrived."

D'ron put his arms around her and looked up into the sky above their weyr. In the flickering light provided by the flames that were eating away at his home, he clearly saw a Thread-scarred bronze with a rider with long black hair going _between_, and cried out in dismay.

"What's wrong?" Kirsty asked, immediately alarmed. She twisted in his arms to see what had startled him, but of course, the dragon was gone. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he murmured, shaking his head. He didn't want her to know that her beloved M'kai had been the one to burn down her home and endanger her life and that of her son. The knowledge would probably break her.

* * *

I know it sounds completely out of character for M'kai, but it will be explained in future chapters. Promise! 


	30. M'kai Returns

If Pern was mine, would I be writing fanfiction? I think not...

* * *

"It was M'kai! I saw him!" D'ron said angrily, striding around B'kennor's workroom. "Why won't you believe me?"

"I just don't think that M'kai would be capable of trying to kill Kirsty," Drianne said calmly, rocking Riannor to sleep. "Do you?"

D'ron paused. "I don't know," he admitted, watching Riannor try to catch Drianne's finger. She managed it, and smiled happily. "The M'kai I knew wouldn't have been able to, but maybe he's changed."

"That much?" she asked.

"I just don't know," he said, and resumed his pacing. "All I know is that the rider I saw last night hovering over my weyr looked like M'kai."

_D'ron! _broke in Jarrath. _Come quickly!_

_What is it? _D'ron asked, stopping dead in his tracks. Jarrath sounded really upset.

_It's Tyrith! _he sent. _He's coming!_

_Coming here? Now? _D'ron asked, stunned.

_Yes!_ Jarrath bugled.

D'ron spun and ran to the door. "D'ron? What's the matter?" Drianne asked, half-rising from her chair.

"Jarrath says Tyrith is coming!" he called over his shoulder, and leaping down the steps, scrambled to where he could see Jarrath rearing to his hindquarters to greet Tyrith.

"M'kai!" D'ron bellowed, looking into the sky. "M'kai!"

"D'ron!" a voice called back. D'ron came to a halt, his breath coming hard and fast, and waited for Tyrith to come into view.

Soon, Tyrith was hovering above the clearing, but M'kai was nowhere in sight. "M'kai?" D'ron called, looking about. "Where are you?"

"Here, brother," came the voice, and M'kai walked into the clearing, pulling off his riding gloves. D'ron raced over to him and threw his arms around him, but M'kai didn't return the hug. Instead, he stood stiffly as D'ron clung to him as though he would never let go.

"Oh, M'kai, I've missed you so much! Everyone has!" he finally sniffed, releasing him. "Where have you been?"

"I made myself a weyr in the mountain range far to the west of here," he replied flatly.

"But what have you been doing? And why did you leave so suddenly? You didn't even say goodbye before you disappeared. You need to come and see everybody, especially Kirsty. She has the biggest surprise for you!" D'ron said excitedly, and started dragging him towards the Teaching Hall, where Kirsty and Kirkai were staying until their weyr was rebuilt.

"I don't care," he said, and pulled his arm away from D'ron, who halted in surprise.

"Why not?" he asked, astonished.

"I haven't come back for her. I came back… to challenge you!"

x

D'ron stared at M'kai in dismay and horror. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed.

"You heard me," M'kai said menacingly. "I want to challenge you. To a fight. Right here, right now."

"What on Pern are you talking about, M'kai?" D'ron asked, who was starting to become frightened. This wasn't at all like M'kai!

"I want to fight you! How hard is that to understand?" M'kai yelled, his fingers forming rigid claws in his rage. "You've got a knife, haven't you?"

"Always, but wouldn't it be better to go down to the training hall and fight in there, where neither of us is likely to be hurt?" D'ron asked, bewildered.

"Why would getting hurt be an issue in a fight to death?" M'kai asked, an evil glint in his eye.

"To the death? M'kai, are you mad?" D'ron exclaimed as Jarrath bugled in protest. "What is wrong with you?"

"Keep Jarrath out of this fight. He has no part in it. Now, I grow tired of this talk, big brother," M'kai snarled. "Fight me!"

He leapt for D'ron, nails poised to gouge his eyes while his knife lay forgotten in its sheath in his rage. D'ron, surprised, fell under his attack and fought to keep the murderous claws away from his face.

"M'kai!" he bellowed, his voice tight with the strain. "Stop this at once! What do you think you are doing?"

"You're right," he said, a cold smile curving his lips. He released D'ron and backed off. "I should stop trying to hurt you, and take your life instead!" He drew his knife in one smooth motion, and flowed forward to attack again.

But this time, D'ron was ready for him. He had his own knife out, and the combatants circled each other, one looking to disable, one to kill.

D'ron feinted and M'kai rushed him, briefly grappling with him before D'ron tripped him and danced past. M'kai turned with a snarl and leapt for him again. Time and again they clashed, but while D'ron was hampered by his desire to save both of them from death, M'kai had no such restriction.

Suddenly, D'ron stumbled as his lame foot turned beneath him, and M'kai leapt forward with a cry of triumph. D'ron lifted his guard, but not quite fast enough. He howled in pain as M'kai's knife slashed his face, and he dropped to his knees, his free hand clamped to the wound. Blindly, instinctively, he struck out at the source of his pain, and felt the point sink deep. Warm liquid began to course down his hand to drench his arm from the wrist to the shoulder as he heard a soft gasp.

D'ron dropped his hand from his face and found his knife buried deep in his brother's chest. He cried out, and caught M'kai as he fell, a surprised but relieved smile on his face.

"D'ron," he whispered, "I'm so sorry. Go to my weyr, and read the book on the table. It will explain everything."

"Oh, M'kai! What have I done?" D'ron sobbed, cradling his brother close. "There is still so much you have to live for! You need to see Kirsty again, and meet Kirkai, and…"

"Who is Kirkai?" he asked faintly, and coughed, painfully. D'ron could hear the blood bubbling in his chest.

"Kirkai is your son. He was born after you left us. Oh M'kai, you can't die yet! You need to be a father to Kirkai, and teach him what he needs to know, and…"

"My _son_?" M'kai said softly, incredulously. Then he shook his head. "You will need to teach him everything," he said, catching hold of D'ron's hand and clenching it tightly. "I leave him in your care, and Kirsty too, if she hasn't found someone else. Take care of them. Give them the love I couldn't. Thank you, my brother. Never forget that I love you."

And there, in a clearing half a world away from where he was born, M'kai, rider of bronze Tyrith, once Master Mordekai of the Harper Hall and Mor of Fer Hold, died in the bloodstained arms of the brother he loved as his beloved Tyrith sprang into the sky and with a wild keening, disappeared _between_, for the last time.

* * *

And that was originally the end of Part 1. I have since decided that there is no point in splitting it, and will just continue to update on this one. Updates will begin to be less frequent from here, as I am suffering from major writer's block with this story. All suggestions are much appreciated, as are comments and constructive criticism.


	31. Aftermath

Sorry for the delay in updates; mid-semester tests are a pain! It seems like everything is happening at once!

Anyway, I do not own Pern or any characters you may recognise. I am, however, willing to lend any you don't to anyone who asks nicely.

* * *

D'ron sat, rocking his brother's body in his arms as tears ran down his face and mingled with the blood that was already there. He could distantly hear Jarrath keening, and felt his presence in his mind, but all that existed for him at the moment was M'kai.

"D'ron?" he heard a voice ask. "What happened? Every dragon in the Weyr is keening and Camanth tells me Tyrith is no more."

He lifted his head, and ignored Drianne's gasp. "M'kai came to fight me," he said dully. "He challenged me to a duel to the death, and though I tried to save him, I killed him. He hit my face, and I lashed out blindly and killed him." He lowered his head and tightened his grip on M'kai.

"B'kennor! Go and get Helida!" she shouted down the path. "Oh, D'ron," she breathed, turning back to him. She bit her lip. "D'ron, you need to come back down to the Weyr and we'll fix you up. Then we need to prepare M'kai for his burial. Where do you want to bury him?"

"_Between_," D'ron whispered. "We'll inter him _between. _Then his body can always be with Tyrith."

A sudden wave of dizziness swept over him, and he put a hand to his head. He felt how sticky his cheek was, and whipped his hand off to stare at the blood that clung to it.

"Where am I bleeding from?" he asked in a whisper.

Drianne, looking pale, knelt and put her arms around him. "Don't worry about it for now…" she began, but D'ron cut her off.

"Where?" he demanded.

She sighed. "You don't want to know."

"I'll have to find out sooner or later. Where?" he demanded stubbornly.

There was an awkward pause. "Your eye," she finally whispered, standing and looking away from him. "You've lost your eye."

"Lost it?" D'ron queried, staring at his hand.

"It's gone," she choked, and tears began to run down her face.

D'ron sat in shock as B'kennor and Helida arrived and gently prised M'kai away from him. He docilely followed them down the path to the Weyr and drank the wine Helida made for him, ignoring the bitter taste of the fellis juice. Within moments, he was asleep.

x

"It will take you a while to adjust to your new sight," Helida warned as she gently removed the bandages. D'ron slowly opened his eye. He had been kept in bandages since the fight two sevendays ago, and Helida had decided that it was time to remove them.

"What do you mean?" he asked, reaching for the glass of water that was sitting on the table next to him, but while he could see it, he couldn't feel it. He moved his hand around a little, and felt it knock the glass to the floor.

"Sorry!" he said in alarm.

"Don't be. That's the sort of thing I mean," she said, bending to retrieve the glass. "You'll find that you perceive things differently now, and it will take you a while to learn to compensate for it."

"We'll help you," Kirsty said, gently squeezing his arm. "As much as we can."

"Thanks, Kirsty," he said, trying to place his hand on hers and succeeding on the second try. "I appreciate it."

x

"You all right, D'ron?" B'kennor called above the wind.

"Fine!" he called back with a wave.

D'ron, Jarrath, B'kennor and Dioanth were flying low in the western mountain range, searching for M'kai's hidden weyr. M'kai's words about the book in his weyr had been bothering D'ron, and he had finally persuaded Helida and B'kennor to let him fly out there and have a look for it.

"Do you have any idea where we should be looking?" B'kennor asked.

"No," called back D'ron. "But we should probably look for somewhere with a big ledge that catches the sun. Tyrith loved to sunbathe, and M'kai would have chosen a place his dragon liked."

"Makes sense," B'kennor replied with a nod.

They had been flying over and between the mountains for more than an hour when Dioanth suddenly pulled up, nearly unseating B'kennor.

"What's the matter?" B'kennor asked, stroking Dioanth's neck.

_I saw a wide ledge below us,_ he replied, tilting his wing to allow his rider to see what he had seen.

"D'ron! There's a ledge down there! Let's check it out!" B'kennor shouted, pointing downwards. D'ron nodded his approval, and the two bronzes began to glide in circles so they could have a clear view of the platform as they descended.

Jarrath landed, and D'ron dismounted. "It certainly looks promising," he admitted, peering around for some sign of a shelter M'kai could have used.

Jarrath moved to let Dioanth land, and soon B'kennor had joined D'ron on the ground. "Let's have a bit of look around, shall we?" he suggested, striding across the ledge.

D'ron hurried after him, and found him peering into a dark cave. "What can you see?" he asked, halting beside him.

"I can't see much at all, but I can smell dragon," B'kennor replied, stepping over the threshold. D'ron sniffed, and realised he was right as the spicy smell that was unique to dragons came drifting out to meet his nose.

"Look at this!" B'kennor exclaimed. D'ron joined B'kennor inside and stumbled over to him, putting out a hand to feel his way in the semi-darkness. "It's a book of some sort, and it looks like M'kai's writing, but I can't make it out in this darkness," B'kennor said, squinting at the words written on the page. "I need to take it outside."

Together, they returned to the plateau, D'ron blinking in the brighter light. His eye no longer adjusted as well as it once had, and sudden changes in the level of light around him disoriented him.

"It is M'kai's writing, and it looks like a diary!" B'kennor exclaimed, leafing through the pages. He flipped back to the start, cleared his throat and began to read aloud, but D'ron stopped him.

"If it is M'kai's diary, then it is private," he said firmly, looking B'kennor in the eye. "I would prefer it if I could read it alone, then tell you what I find. I realise this sounds a little ridiculous, but… he was my brother, and these are his last words. I don't want to share them. Even with you," he said softly, looking away. "I hope you can understand."

"Of course I can, D'ron," B'kennor said warmly. He handed the book to D'ron. "Just tell me if you find anything important."

* * *

Catch you soon! 


	32. M'kai's Diary

I'm getting better at remembering to update, but I need suggestions from you to help me keep going. I have a rough idea of where I'm heading with this, but I need help getting there!

Oh, yeah. Pern is not mine, nor I am profiting in any way from writing this. Apart from much needed self-confidence boosts. I wonder what their monetary value is?

* * *

When they returned to the Weyr, D'ron closeted himself in his bedroom and opened the diary, hoping to find an explanation for his brother's deeds.

x

_Today, I fled the Weyr that has been my home for more than two Turns. My feelings of guilt over the injuries I caused D'ron and Tyrith were so intense that I just needed to get away for a while. I know everyone keeps telling me that it wasn't my fault they were hurt, but I still feel responsible, so I'm going to stay out here until I can accept it. Maybe I'll be able to accept Tyrith's injuries when the scars fade, but I've been told D'ron will limp for the rest of his life, so maybe I'll never get over his._

x

_I have found a suitable place to live, and while not as comfortable as the weyr I left behind, it will suffice. There is ample hunting for Tyrith close by, and it is far out enough that we will not be found by sweepriders from any Weyr. I have cried myself out twice today as thoughts of D'ron overwhelmed me, but my grief for Tyrith has lessened, as already his scars appear to look old. Is it wrong to grieve more for my brother than my dragon? I don't know what is right or wrong anymore._

x

_Last sevenday, Tyrith dropped me off in one of the lower valleys so we could both hunt. While I was stalking a wherry, one of the large felines that are so common around here attacked me, and though I drove it off, I was badly injured. Tyrith came immediately to my aid, but was unable to do anything for me. Luckily, three holders, two men and a woman, found me and they have been caring for me until my fever broke this morning. I owe them my life, and Tyrith's._

x

_While I have been healing, I've gotten better acquainted with my rescuers. The two men, Junu and Miliku, are quiet by nature, but Anaku, the woman, is quite talkative, and it is from her that I've have learnt most about them. They have a hold hidden deep within a valley not far from my weyr, and it is in this hold I have been staying as I make my recovery. Tyrith has been checking on me every day, but has been forced by lack of space to return to our weyr each night._

x

_When I woke this morning, Anaku decided that I was strong enough to walk, so the four of us took a gentle stroll along a nearby path. While we rested at a waterfall, I noticed the most peculiar thing, which doubtless I did not notice before due to the lack of light. Anaku, Junu and Miliku all have six fingers on each hand!_

D'ron blinked in surprise. _Six fingers on each hand?_ _How unusual!_ he thought. Shaking his head, he returned to the diary.

_Needless to say, I was surprised, and asked Anaku about it, but she avoided the subject. We returned to their hold, and nothing more was said about it._

x

_I have taken my leave of Anaku, Junu and Miliku and returned to my weyr. By my reckoning, I stayed with them three sevendays, but Timor has made a full cycle since my injury. Where did I lose time? _

_Speaking of time, I am beginning to feel that I have been away from my loved ones long enough, but am still not entirely ready to return to them. Each night in my dreams, I relive the fall, and though I no longer wake screaming, I still wake up, drenched in sweat. My other dreams are no better. For a few nights now, I have been plagued by dreams of fires that rip through the forest, destroying everything in their path. I feel these dreams mean something, but I'm not sure what._

x

_The fire dreams have abated somewhat, but now I dream of odd occurrences, like herdbeasts burning alive, and fish falling from the sky. A few days ago, for example, I dreamt of my friend Callame and a collapsing hold. Lately, I feel that I have been living in a dream, because now they sometimes occur during the day, when I am awake. I can dream for the time it takes to blink, and come to my senses on the other side of the world. What is happening to me?_

x

_The dreams are worsening. Two nights ago I dreamt of a ship that was sunk by a dragon that looked like Tyrith, and only yesterday I dreamt that he and I tried to burn Hanrahan Weyr to the ground! I am terrified that these dreams will drive me crazy; yet sometimes, I think it has already begun. I now find it hard to separate dreams and wakefulness, and fear that this is the first sign of madness. Today, when hunting Tyrith, I noticed he smelled of firestone, yet I haven't given him any. Am I mad already, without knowing it?_

x

_Alas! I have finally discovered the truth behind these visions I have been experiencing. Tyrith and I were out for a flight when we saw a hold signalling for a dragonrider, so naturally, we landed and approached the hold. As soon as they saw my face, women screamed and hustled their children inside while the men clenched their fists. I asked one what was wrong, and he spat at me that I should know. Puzzled, I sought the holder, when suddenly half a dozen holders jumped on me. Tyrith scared them off with a roar, and I asked what I had done. The holder stared at me, then he gestured across the harbour to a smoking pile of charred timbers and ash. I stared at him in disbelief, and tried to protest my innocence, but Tyrith broke in and told me that it was true; I had ordered him to do this._

_All the visions and dreams I experienced were true! They really happened! I have been hurting people without even knowing it! I would never have done this willingly; I now believe that while I was in their care, Anaku, Miliku and Junu did something to me to make me act like this. I went back to their hold to ask them, but they were gone._

_I'm not sure I can handle my guilty conscience anymore. This life is getting too hard to bear, but I cannot end my life without seeing D'ron again. I need to see him, but I am too ashamed to! What am I to do?_

x

_Yesterday, I suddenly felt a desire to kill D'ron. Shocked, I probed deeper, and found that the 'desire' was actually a thought conveyed through a necklace Anaku gave me when I departed. I immediately tried to remove the necklace, but it began to burn, and before I knew what was happening, I found myself regaining consciousness on the floor. There must be something more to the necklace that meets the eye; some kind of technology, but I've never heard of its like before. Anaku and the others must have decided that D'ron was a threat, and wanted me to kill him, but I won't._

_I tried to commit suicide today, but it didn't work. The necklace merely knocked me out again. I need to get rid of it, but I can't figure out how. I've tried everything I can think of. Perhaps the only way is to go after D'ron… Then I can be free._

x

D'ron closed the diary with a soft snap, tears making tracks down his cheeks. M'kai had challenged him so he would be killed! M'kai had _wanted _to die! He let the book drop to the floor and let his tears flow.

x

Hours later, a soft knocking on his door roused D'ron from his grief, and he whispered hoarsely for the person to enter. B'kennor awkwardly sidled into the room, having been drawn by the sound of sobbing. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

D'ron gestured towards the book. "M'kai deliberately got himself killed so he would be free of the people who were controlling him," he croaked, ignoring the lump in his throat. "They'd been forcing him to do terrible things, like burn the Weyr and collapse Callame's hold, and the only way he could stop them forcing him to hurt people and free himself was to die!"

D'ron suddenly stood, and limped to the window, looking out towards the sea. "I swear, by Faranth and the First Egg, by every drop of my blood and every scale of my dragon, that I will have my revenge upon these people for my brother's death!" he vowed angrily. "I will avenge M'kai!"

"I will help you with your revenge, D'ron," B'kennor said, standing and placing his hand on D'ron's shoulder. "M'kai was dear to me, too."

The two men stood together, watching the sun set, their hearts filled with anger at the murder of a brother and a friend.

* * *

Do these explanations help at all?


	33. The Mystery Woman

OK, it's been a while since the last chapter, both in the real world (sorry!) and in the story. Kirkai is now thirteen, so that makes the skip ten Turns.

I do not own Pern, and I will never have enough money to attempt to buy it so I do.

* * *

"Catch me if you can!" Kirkai shouted, racing away from the other children, his long legs eating up the distance.

Turns had passed, and Kirkai had grown into an energetic teenager. Kirsty, already frail, had been shattered by M'kai's death, and in the Turn that Kirkai turned six, she had passed away, leaving D'ron to raise Kirkai by himself. Drianne and B'kennor had tried to help as much as they could, but they had four of their own to raise now, and rarely had any time to spare.

"I'm catching up, Kirkai!" Bria shouted happily, pumping her little legs as fast as she could.

"Yeah right!" Riannor yelled, making a face at her little sister.

"Watch out!" Kennoran shouted.

Kirkai, watching the scene behind him with amusement and forgetting to watch where he was going, whipped his head forward, but he was too late to stop himself crashing into D'ron, bringing them both down in a heap.

"Are you all right, Uncle D'ron?" Riannor cried, rushing over to them.

"I'm fine, Riannor," D'ron said, standing up. "I was actually looking for you four, though I didn't expect to find you like this," he added dryly, looking over at his young charge. Kirkai remained in the dust, staring at his feet.

"Your mother wants you three to help her prepare for tonight's feast," he said to Kennoran, Riannor and Bria. "And you were meant to show up for your music lesson half an hour ago," he said to Kirkai with a frown.

"Really?" Kirkai said, surprised. He looked at his watch, and his face fell. "I lost track of the time."

D'ron smiled. Kirkai was always getting caught up in something else, and was rarely on time for anything. "Just head over to the Teaching Hall. I'll meet you at home after your lesson, and after I've given this book back to J'nin," he said, picking up the book he had dropped when he fell.

"Yes, Uncle D'ron. See you soon," Kirkai said cheerfully, heading off towards the Hall. D'ron laughed quietly, and limped towards Riasa's weyr, where he knew he would find the bronze rider snoozing in his weyrmate's hammock on the veranda.

x

Kirkai swung past the weyr he shared with D'ron to collect his gitar, then headed for the Teaching Hall. He had inherited his father's skill with music, but unlike M'kai, his strength lay in strings, not the pipe.

He was on the steps of the Teaching Hall when he heard the sound a dragon made when it left _between_. He looked up to see which rider had been reckless enough to try and land in the small clearing before the Teaching Hall, but to his surprise, he couldn't see a dragon anywhere. He glanced around for a fire lizard, though the sound hadn't been quite right for one, but now that he thought about it, it hadn't been quite right for a dragon either. He didn't see one, but he did see a pile in the middle of the clearing that hadn't been there before.

As he approached it, the pile moaned. _It's alive!_ Kirkai thought in amazement. He cautiously inched a little closer, and realised that it was a woman, blushing when he realised she was also naked. Thoughts of modesty were forgotten as he saw the spreading pool of blood beneath her.

_Jarrath! Can you hear me?_ Kirkai called desperately.

_I can hear you, little Kirkai. What is wrong?_ the dragon replied. Jarrath and Kirkai had always spoken together, but Jarrath had never heard such desperation in Kirkai's voice before.

_Tell Uncle D'ron he needs to bring Helida and her medical bag up to the Teaching Hall right now!_ Kirkai said, conveying his urgency to the big bronze.

Kirkai felt Jarrath's surprise. _Are you injured, little one? _he asked. _You do not feel hurt._

_I'm all right._ _There is a woman up here who is hurt badly, and needs help,_ Kirkai responded.

There was a slight pause, then Jarrath replied, _D'ron and the Healer woman come._

x

"How is she?" Kirkai asked anxiously.

"She has been badly injured," Helida said with a frown, examining the wound that still seeped blood onto the sand. "If we're lucky, she will survive."

"She has to! I want to know where she came from!" Kirkai cried.

"What do you mean, Kirkai?" Helida asked, glancing towards the boy. "She probably came from a nearby hold. We'll send messages to the nearest and ask if anyone is missing."

"You probably wouldn't get an answer, Uncle," Kirkai said, staring at her. "I think a dragon might have left her here."

"What makes you say that, Kirkai?" D'ron asked in surprise.

Kirkai explained about hearing the sound, and the fact that it hadn't sounded quite right. "The only thing I can think was that a dragon dropped her off and disappeared straight away," Kirkai explained.

"How strange," D'ron mused. "Why would someone do that?"

"Let's figure it out after she's been treated, and then maybe she can help you," said Helida briskly. "D'ron, can you carry her down to the sickroom?"

"Of course," D'ron said with a nod, and knelt, easily lifting her into his arms. He stood again, compensating for his bad leg without even thinking about it, and strode off down the hill.

x

"Do you think she'll live?" D'ron asked in a low voice, trying not to disturb the exhausted Kirkai, who had fallen asleep in a nearby chair.

"Well, I've done everything I can for her," Helida replied, falling into a chair and wiping her brow. "It's up to luck now."

"Then I hope hers is good," he murmured, gazing down at the sleeping woman, who wore a small frown on her face.

There was no reply, and D'ron looked up to find Helida slumped in her chair, quietly snoring. He smiled briefly, then stood and took a blanket from the cupboard, carefully tucking it in around her so it wouldn't slip during the night.

"Sweet dreams, Healer," he told her. Looking around, he found another chair and pulled it closer to the mystery woman's bed.

"Sweet dreams for you too, whoever you are," he whispered, then settled himself in for a long night.

* * *

The mystery woman shall be introduced in the next chapter. See you soon! 


	34. Elena

Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've been really stuck. However, I now know where I'm going (at least for a while), so I'll put up what I've got.

Insert usual disclaimer

* * *

As the sun rose, its light crept in through the windows to fall on Elena's face, bringing her to full alertness. Sitting up, she stifled a gasp as pain shot through her, and carefully laid herself back down again. Glancing around her, she saw a room that looked like an infirmary, and sitting in a chair next to the bed, still asleep, was a man.

He looked to be about forty, his black hair starting to silver, and his face was weather-beaten, like that of a man who spent most of his time outdoors. From what she could tell, he was tall, and though lean, he looked strong. He wore a patch over one eye, and from the scar that ran from his hairline to his earlobe, passing under the patch, she realised that he was missing that eye. Instinctively she checked his hands, but they were normal.

A roar from outside made her whip her head around, and when she turned back, the man's eye was open, and he was watching her. Elena reached for her knife, but the pain the movement caused her made her gasp and forget it.

The man reached out and Elena flinched, but all he did was stroke her forehead, and say something she couldn't understand.

"What did you say?" she whispered.

The man looked confused. He made the same sounds he had before, and Elena guessed that he was trying to calm her.

x

"Please, be still," D'ron repeated again. The woman continued to stare at him warily, and D'ron was reminded of a trapped animal.

"You are badly hurt, but do not worry. We will take good care of you," D'ron said, trying to make his voice as reassuring as possible. "Where are you from?"

x

Elena's eyes widened. She had almost understood the last thing he had said! She mimicked the sounds he had made, and he smiled, and said them again, more slowly. This time, Elena understood, though his strange accent made them all but unintelligible.

"I am from the _Hispania_," she said slowly, spacing everything out to see if he could understand her.

x

"'Hisspangya'?" he repeated, puzzled. This woman was very difficult to understand, but according to F'nor, AIVAS had been just as difficult at first. Maybe that meant that AIVAS came from this 'Hisspangya'?

The woman nodded vigorously. "Hisspangya," she repeated.

"Well, now that we can understand each other a little bit," D'ron sighed. "D'ron," he said, pointing to himself.

"D'ron," she said awkwardly, pointing at him. "Elena," she pronounced, pointing to herself and smiling.

"Elena," he repeated, smiling. She nodded in delight.

"Elena," came Helida's voice. Elena jumped in alarm, which made her cry out in pain.

"Careful, Helida! She's really jumpy! Talk to her quietly for a while. It calms her down," D'ron said, grabbing Helida by the arm.

"Fine," Helida said, not taking her eyes off Elena. "Helida," she said, pointing to herself.

x

"Elena," Elena replied warily. Her new friend Deron was protecting her from this new woman, but she didn't alarm him, so maybe she was a friend too. "Friend?"

"Friend," said Deron reassuringly.

"Can you please help me to sit up?" she inquired, making the appropriate gestures.

Deron looked at Helida, who nodded, then carefully lifted Elena from the bed and settled her in the chair he had slept in. As he moved away, Elena noticed that he limped.

"Why do you limp?" she asked, pointing at his leg.

"Do not ask," he said briefly, and sat in another chair.

For the first time, Elena saw the boy in the other chair. "Your son?" she asked Deron, gesturing to him.

Suddenly, the boy woke up, and after looking about for a second, seemed to remember what had happened. He jumped up from his seat, and seeing her, began to talk very fast, too fast for her to understand.

x

"Kirkai! Slow down!" D'ron said, holding up his hands. "Elena doesn't understand us unless we speak slowly, and _I_ had trouble understanding you then, you were talking so fast!"

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "Her name is Elena? Where is she from?"

"Hisspangya," D'ron replied.

Kirkai's brow creased. "Where's that?" he asked.

"We'll look it up on the maps on the computer later," D'ron said.

Kirkai nodded, then turned to Elena. "I'm Kirkai," he said.

"You are D'ron's son?" she asked.

The boy shook his head. "I'm M'kai's son," he said proudly. "D'ron is my uncle."

Her face clouded for a moment, then cleared. "Ah! His brother-son, yes?" she asked.

"Yes," Kirkai said with a grin. "Brother-son."

"Where is your brother?" Elena asked D'ron.

D'ron's face fell. "Dead," he said briefly.

"That is sad," said Elena sympathetically. "Gongadu?"

"Gongadu?" D'ron repeated awkwardly. "What is Gongadu?"

Elena scowled. "Evil!" she said. "Gongadu attacked us, killed my friends."

"Gongadu are like Thread?" D'ron asked.

"Gongadu are not clothes," Elena said with a frown. "Gongadu are like us, but have six fingers."

x

D'ron leapt from his chair. "Six fingers?" he said hoarsely. "The people who killed my brother had six fingers!"

"We came to study the Wanderer, but we were attacked by creatures we named Gongadu," Elena explained with a shudder. "They hurt me, then cast me into what they called the void."

"What is this void you speak of?" asked D'ron, frowning.

Elena shrugged. "I do not know," she responded. "But it was very cold. I thought I would die, but something helped me to where you found me."

D'ron frowned. "What sort of something?" he asked.

Elena shrugged. "I do not know," she replied. "All I know is that I would not be alive now if it had not helped me."

x

"Well, it looks like you're fully healed," Helida said, smiling at Elena.

Elena had been confined to the sickroom while she healed, and the restriction made her itch. D'ron, sympathetic to her restlessness, spent as much time with her as possible, even turning control of his wing over to his wingsecond S'nor so he could devote every spare moment to her.

"Really? Does that mean I can get out of this room?" Elena asked eagerly.

"You can, but you must only take short walks at first, to build your strength up," Helida warned. "If you try to do too much too fast, you will ruin your recovery and have to stay here even longer."

"No! I promise I'll take it easy!" Elena laughed.

D'ron helped her to her feet and offered her a shoulder to lean on. "I'll just take you as far as Drianne's quarters," he told her. "It's about time you met the leaders of this place."

Elena nodded, and let D'ron help her to the door. "I have heard you mention this Drianne before. She is the wife of B'kennor?"

D'ron frowned. "I don't understand what you mean by the word 'wife'," he said, puzzled. Elena had mastered the Pernese speech, but she still occasionally used words he didn't recognise.

"Life-partner," Elena supplied.

"Ah! Spouse!" D'ron exclaimed. "No, Drianne and B'kennor are not espoused, but they may as well be. They have four children together: Kennoran, Riannor, Bria and Kandriken. You've met the three older ones, but Kandriken is very shy, and he stays close to Drianne."

"Oh, you mean Kirkai's friends?" she asked. "The boy, and the two little girls?"

"That's them," D'ron said, nodding.

Suddenly, Elena saw something from the corner of her eye. She turned her head to see it, and found herself looking at a huge scaly beast, taller than the buildings. She stifled a scream, and tugged urgently at D'ron sleeve.

"D'ron!" she whispered. "What's that?"

D'ron looked where she pointed, and smiled. "That's just Dioanth. B'kennor hunted him this morning, so he's sleeping off his meal."

He looked back to Elena, and was surprised to see that her face was filled with fear. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"It is a monster!" she said fearfully.

"A monster!" D'ron exclaimed. "How can you call a dragon a monster?"

Elena stared at him, and mutely shook her head. _She never has seen a dragon before,_ D'ron realised with a shock. _How can that be?

* * *

_I have another chapter _pretty_ much ready to go, but I'm still in need of some help. Ideas, please! 


	35. What Are Gongadu?

Contrary to popular opinion, I have not dropped off the face of the planet; it just seems that way! I apologise for the massive delay since my last update, but Christmas is a very busy time of year!

I think this should be pretty obvious by now, but I do not own anything Pern-associated except my original characters.

* * *

"How can you have never seen a dragon before?" Drianne asked, staring at Elena in bemusement.

"Where I come from, there are no dragons," Elena explained.

"No dragons!" D'ron exclaimed. "Then who protects you from Thread when the Red Star comes close?"

Elena frowned and shook her head. "I don't understand what you mean by 'Thread' and 'Red Star'," she said. "The only thing we need protection from are Gongadu."

"What exactly are Gongadu?" Drianne asked.

"Like I told D'ron, Gongadu look like us, but they have six fingers on each hand," Elena explained. "They attacked the research team and destroyed our ship. D'ron said they killed his brother too. Haven't you ever seen them?"

Kandriken, who had been listening to the whole conversation with wide eyes, tugged on Drianne's sleeve. "Mamma," he whispered, "what's a research?"

Elena gaped. "You don't know what a research team is?" she exclaimed.

"I've heard the term before…" said B'kennor thoughtfully. "But where?"

"I know!" said Kennoran excitedly. "When you studied with AIVAS! The Ancients used it for groups of people sent to find out about things!"

"That's right!" said D'ron in amazement.

"Are you an Ancient?" Bria asked, staring at Elena.

"An Ancient?" she asked, puzzled.

"What she means is, do you come from Earth?" D'ron explained.

"Of course I come from Earth!" Elena laughed. "Where else would I be from?"

x

"So, all of you are the descendants of the lost Pern colony?" Elena asked incredulously. "We learnt about the colony as children, and how they lost contact with it not long after their arrival despite many searches."

"How could they not have found us?" D'ron asked, puzzled. "By the end of the First Pass, we had a thriving society, or at least so our records tell us."

"But it was in the North!" B'kennor exclaimed. "Remember? The Second Crossing? They would have only searched for survivors in the South, and even if they did search in the North, they wouldn't have looked in the caves our ancestors built the Holds in, because they wouldn't have understood the need to hide from Thread."

"That explains an awful lot," Elena mused. "I always thought it odd that an entire civilisation could disappear. But I still have some questions. First, what is Thread? And how am I going to get home to warn my people?"

"The first one, I'll leave the children to explain to you," Drianne said, standing and helping Elena up. "But they'll have to do it while you're in bed. You still need to rest."

"All right, all right," Elena laughed, waving dismissively. "I'm going!" She shuffled to the door, leaning on Kennoran, who was already beginning his explanation, and they were soon out of earshot.

Drianne sat again and leaned back in her chair. "Her second question, we'll need to figure out," she sighed, rubbing her temples, where faint strands of silver were beginning to appear.

"I would have thought that it was obvious!" D'ron exclaimed, thrusting himself out of his seat and pacing the room. "We need to go back with her!"

"How do you propose to do that, D'ron?" B'kennor snapped, getting frustrated.

"We can get a visualisation from Elena and go there a-dragonback, of course!" D'ron exclaimed.

"We'd need space suits so we could breathe," mused Drianne. "And maybe even tanks for the dragons, if the trip is as long as I think it is."

D'ron waved a hand dismissively. "Dragons can hold their breath for nearly fifteen minutes, Drianne. I don't think _anywhere _could be so far that it would take longer than that to get there _between_."

"If the problem is close by, then why do we need to tell Elena's people at all?" B'kennor asked. "It would be much easier to stop it here and never worry or involve them."

"But what about Elena?" D'ron demanded. "She obviously wants to go home. How are we going to get her there?"

"I think that will be a problem for another day," Drianne said gently. "Don't you think she'd want to help with the Gongadu problem before she goes?"

D'ron slumped in defeat, his sudden burst of energy spent. "I suppose so," he muttered.

"Well," B'kennor said, pushing himself to his feet, "I suppose the first step is to ask Elena to tell us as much as she can about the Gongadu. The more we know, the better we can plan."

x

Together, the three of them made their way over to the sickroom, where they found Kirkai, Kennoran and Riannor all competing to say everything they knew about Thread and Elena in the midst of it all, looking a little overwhelmed.

"Kirkai!" D'ron called over the noise, which began to die down as he spoke. "That's enough for now. It's nearly time for the midday meal, so can you please take the others to the kitchens and get enough food for all of us?"

"Sure!" Kirkai replied. "Let's go!"

The children left, Kennoran and Kirkai arguing about who was in charge as Riannor walked ahead of them, nose in the air, and Bria and Kandriken hurried to keep up. Elena slumped in a chair and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she said wearily. "I'm not used to that many children around."

"They can be a little much, can't they?" Drianne said with a smile.

Elena fervently nodded her agreement as the others sat, which caused B'kennor to chuckle. Then his face became serious again.

"Elena, what can you tell us about the Gongadu?"

Elena sat up, and frowned in concentration. "Well, like I told you, we came to study the Wanderer's change in course…"

"The Wanderer?" Drianne asked.

"I think it's what you call the Red Star," Elena explained. "We were puzzled by the inexplicable shift in its orbit, and came to investigate possible causes. My ship, the _Hispania_, was specifically requested for the mission, as our captain was the brother of the research team's leader."

"When we landed, it seemed uninhabited. The only form of life we could find were frozen pods that not even our toughest instruments could break into. But after a day or two, we started to get the feeling that we were being watched. Then, one night, it happened."

"What?" B'kennor asked. "What happened?"

"We returned to the ship after an expedition to find that our guards had been captured, and we were all made prisoners of the Gongadu." She shivered. "When they captured us, they were tall, grey and had only a roughly humanoid shape. They had tentacles instead of arms, and their heads just ended in a blind point."

"I thought you said they looked like us?" B'kennor asked, puzzled.

"Not at first," she answered with another shiver. "They took us into a nearby cave system, and forced us to watch from the entrance as they blew up our ship. Then they demanded the most senior of us step forward, and they took the captain and his sister and… and…" She gulped, a look of nausea in her eyes. "With the information they gathered from the… scan, the Gongadu began to rebuild themselves to look like us."

"Then why do they have six fingers on their hands?" D'ron asked. "We don't."

"No, but the captain and his sister did," Elena explained. "They both had six fingers on each hand; it was a genetic defect that was very common in their family."

"Well, that makes them easier to find, and easier to destroy," said D'ron grimly, getting to his feet. "Let's go get them."

* * *

I'm working on the next chapter, and hope to have it finished soon. As always, reviews and ideas are much appreciated!


	36. The Expedition

Hi everyone! I realise that I haven't updated this in... close on two years? but I got really stuck. This chapter and the next (which will be up tomorrow or the day after) form what I think of as the next arc, but I'm stuck after that, and I won't update again until I can work out where I'm going. I desperately need suggestions, so please send me some!

* * *

"We ready to leave?" B'kennor asked, turning to look over his shoulder at the assembled dragons.

"Don't forget to put your helmet on!" D'ron said, hiding a smile.

B'kennor made a face at him. "I'm not stupid, you know," he said reproachfully, and lowered the helmet of the space suit over his face. "Now are we ready to go?"

The suited figure he knew to be Drianne shook her head and tapped the front of her helmet, and B'kennor realised he had forgotten to turn on his suit's communicator. Glad of the helmet that hid his embarrassed blush, he flipped it on and repeated the question.

"We're just waiting for V'lan and T'car," J'nin's voice crackled through the speaker. "They're getting suited up in the dining hall."

"Actually, we're finished and on our way now," came V'lan's amused voice as he and T'car came into view.

"Right, now that we're all here…" B'kennor said as they joined the circle of riders around him. "I said this during the brief, and I'll say it again: as much as we all want revenge for the death of friends, the purpose of this mission is to gather information, and _only _that."

"We know, B'kennor," D'ron said impatiently.

"I'm just making sure we all _remember_," B'kennor said, fixing him with a stern glance. "I won't lose people on this mission because they forgot their instructions in the heat of the moment."

D'ron looked away, abashed, and mumbled an apology as Elena put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, let's get moving," B'kennor said, turning away.

The team mounted up and, with a pump of B'kennor's arm, were in the air. Twisting his head to check the formation, B'kennor could see Drianne, J'nin and Riasa on his left and D'ron, V'lan and T'car on his right, all them spreading out to form a V with Dioanth at its point.

"Ready? Take your visualisation from Dioanth and let's go _between_!"

x

"This is a really strange place," V'lan commented, looking around.

"What makes you say that?" T'car asked sarcastically.

"I think it's all the Thread pod things," V'lan answered thoughtfully, ignoring T'car's tone. "Or it could be the lack of air, or feeling ten times lighter than usual, or…"

"Keep your mind on the task at hand, guys," J'nin admonished. "The dragons have air tanks, so we have a little bit of time, but we have no idea how long it will to find the little bastards. Right, B'kennor?"

B'kennor nodded. "Spread out and search in pairs. Keep in contact through the radio, and report anything suspicious."

x

"How is everyone going?" B'kennor asked.

"Nothing yet," J'nin reported.

"Elena hasn't recognised anything," D'ron replied, glancing over at what could be seen of her troubled face through her helmet.

"Nothing to report here either," T'car said. "How much time do we have left?"

"About fifteen minutes worth of air for the dragons," Drianne answered, checking a gauge on her suit, "and about an hour for us. Let's head back. It looks like we need to scan the surface from the _Yokohama_ more thoroughly before we try this again."

"Sounds good. See you in a…" T'car trailed off, looking up from his communicator to find his partner had vanished. "V'lan?"

"T'car? Is something wrong?" Drianne asked urgently, exchanging worried glances with B'kennor.

"I can't see V'lan. He's probably just wandered off," T'car said, sounding faintly exasperated. "V'lan! Where are… Shards!"

"T'car? T'car!" Drianne shouted, but only a burst of static met her frantic queries. "Camanth, can Talleth or Dareth hear V'lan or T'car?"

_No, they cannot. They are very upset,_ the queen answered, and Drianne could hear the worry across the link.

"Come in, all parties," B'kennor said into his radio.

"B'kennor? What's wrong?" Riasa answered, alarmed by his tone.

"We've lost contact with V'lan and T'car, and even the dragons can't hear them," Drianne said grimly.

A gasp was heard at the other end. "Oh no!" Riasa exclaimed. "We have to go after them!"

"We're coming to meet you. Tell D'ron and Elena what's going on, and we'll all go."

x

D'ron groaned. _What happened?_ he wondered._ The last thing I remember is…_ His eyes shot open and he lurched into a sitting position, his eyes darting wildly around the room.

"D'ron! Calm down!" Elena pleaded. "We're all okay; there's no need to panic!"

"This isn't him panicking. He always thrashes like a fish when he wakes up," V'lan offered from his seat against the wall. "Comes from spending too long playing with fish as a kid…"

"Dolphins aren't fish," D'ron corrected automatically. "What happened anyway? The last thing I remember is you and T'car disappearing…"

"Well, we've all disappeared now," V'lan said matter-of-factly.

"What he means is we've all been taken captive," said another voice, and D'ron turned to find T'car pacing up and down behind him. "The others are over there," he added, nodding towards the far corner where four space-suited figures were lying.

"They're all okay," Elena assured him. "They're just unconscious. I think they got a bigger dose than we did, so they'll still be out a little while."

"A bigger dose of what?" D'ron asked in confusion.

Elena looked down at her hands in her lap, but not before D'ron caught the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "We were attacked," she admitted. "A group of Gongadu were waiting at the meeting point and attacked everyone as soon as they arrived. Then they brought us all here."

"That's the story, huh?" someone said groggily, and they looked up to find B'kennor struggling to stand. "So how do we go about getting out of here?"

_You don't_, said a voice in their minds. Elena bit back a sob, and the others looked around for the one who had spoken.

"Don't bother looking," she choked out. "The Gongadu communicate telepathically, like you do with your dragons. They also use similar mental energy to attack, which is how they knocked us out before. There are probably none of them near us at the moment, but someone 'heard' us waking up and decided to play with us a bit. They won't do anything more until we're all awake."

_Wrong, pitiful creature_, the voice said scornfully, and a section of the wall they were facing slid down to reveal three blank grey cones. Despite the fact they didn't have eyes, D'ron had the unnerving feeling they were watching them.

"Are they Gongadu?" T'car asked in a whisper.

"Yes. That's what they looked like last time," Elena whispered back in a shaky voice.

_The last time we had test subjects of your species, we were unable to complete our tests due to the disturbance. There will be no such barrier this time,_ one of them said. _Bring one out, and we will begin._

The wall slid apart, and one of the Gongadu entered. D'ron gazed up at it, frozen in place by his shock. Though he himself was tall, the creature dwarfed him, and grey tentacles sprouted from what he couldn't help thinking of as its shoulders to writhe so wildly it was impossible to tell how many there were.

Elena's scream broke him from his trance, and he spun to see V'lan being dragged away. "V'lan!" he yelled, and lunged forward, but the door slid closed behind the furiously kicking V'lan.

_Remove the subject's head protection in preparation for the study of the gas exchange system,_ one commanded with the wave of a tentacle. Elena let out another cry as V'lan's helmet was forcibly removed and he began to gasp silently, his eyes wide with panic.

_Subject appears to be unable to utilise high nitrogen atmosphere, _another Gongadu noted, but D'ron was too fixed on V'lan to hear. His gasps were becoming more desperate, and his lips were beginning to turn blue.

"Please!" Elena screamed. "He can't breathe! You can see that! Why won't you stop?"

_To complete the experiment, it is desirable to see how long your species is able to survive without your necessary gas,_ one stated.

"But he'll die!"

_That is not a problem. We have more specimens._

V'lan fell to his knees, and pitched forward onto the floor, motionless. _It appears this one is nearly dead, _the central Gongadu said dispassionately. _Prepare the next subject._

The wall slid open again and D'ron, blinded by rage, launched himself at the surprised Gongadu. His helmet rammed it in the cone and it staggered back with its tentacles thrashing. "Get everyone out!" D'ron yelled, and B'kennor and Elena hurried to obey.

_You will not escape,_ one of the other Gongadu said menacingly, and advanced on them. D'ron whirled and punched it so hard it flew across the room and collided with the last one, bringing them both down in an unconscious heap.

T'car stumbled past them and dropped to his knees beside V'lan. "V'lan," he sobbed as he jammed his helmet back on, "please don't die. You can't die. You can't!" But V'lan's eyes, usually so full of laughter, were already blank.

"He's gone, T'car," D'ron said gently, kneeling beside the younger rider. "It's too late."

"He… he was my best friend," T'car said sadly. He turned his tear-streaked face to D'ron. "I'm not leaving him behind."

"I understand," D'ron said softly. "Now let's get out of here."

He stood, and turned to find B'kennor supporting a half-conscious Drianne while Elena was desperately trying to wake J'nin. "I'll take him. You help her," D'ron said, inclining his head towards Riasa, who was slumped against the wall looking dazed. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

I doubt anyone felt that was worth the wait, but at least it's something, right?


	37. The Escape

Back again! I got a little distracted by a friend's 21st, so this chapter is a little later than I promised. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

As they hurried as fast as they could along the corridors of the Gongadu base, D'ron's worry grew. Though they had started to recover and were moving faster and faster, the air gauges on their suits read forty minutes, meaning that the dragons had already been without air for five minutes. If they couldn't get out of here and back to Pern in the next ten minutes, they were all dead, and that was being optimistic.

_You worry for the life of your beasts and your companions?_ a voice almost hissed. _How foolish. You would do better to abandon them and flee, preserving your own miserable hide._

D'ron stopped dead. "Where are you?" he challenged, stepping out ahead of the others.

_Here,_ came the answer, and a Gongadu slid into view in front of them, tentacles flexing in a way that reminded D'ron of a man cracking his knuckles in preparation for a fight.

"They've found us," Elena breathed, her face paling behind the helmet's glass.

"Elena, you and Riasa take J'nin," D'ron said quietly, his gaze never leaving the being in front of them.

Riasa came forward and took the weight of her unconscious weyrmate from D'ron's shoulder, but Elena stood her ground. "What are you going to do?" she demanded.

"Get going. I'll give you time to escape," D'ron said as his hands curled into fists.

Elena let out a cry that went unheard as D'ron launched himself at the Gongadu. Tackling around the middle, he brought it crashing to the floor. "Get out of here!" he roared.

"Elena, let's go!" B'kennor said urgently, catching her arm as she started forward.

"But D'ron…" she said, her eyes filling with tears. "We can't just leave him!"

"If we don't, then the sacrifice he is making is all for nothing," Drianne said gently, grabbing her other arm and pulling her after the fleeing Riasa and T'car. Elena gave in and followed them, but not without a backward glance at the struggling pair on the floor.

_So you fight to give your companions time to flee,_ the Gongadu said contemptuously as they rolled over and hit the wall. _Your species is weak and foolish to value the individual so. You are many more on the planet below us, yet you wish to save these few. Even at the cost of your own life._

"That's because they are all important to me, and I won't see anyone else I care about die!" D'ron snarled. With a massive effort, he pushed the Gongadu off him, sending it reeling backwards through a doorway with him in hot pursuit.

x

"We've made it!" Riasa cried in relief. Directly ahead of them, a tall rectangular panel set with a window marked the end of the corridor, and through the window they could clearly see the Red Star's surface.

Elena stepped forward and hit a square plate next to the door. "Quickly!" she shouted as a clear shield began to drop. "It's preparing to depressurise, and we need to be ready to get out!"

Within moments, the shield was down and the pressure sensors in their suits registered a steady drop. When it had reached the same reading as it had given outside, the door in front of them hissed open and they stumbled back out onto the surface.

"I can hear Dioanth!" B'kennor said, his face breaking into a wide grin.

The other riders cheered as they made contact with their own dragons and for a moment Elena envied them. Her flash of jealousy was short-lived as their faces froze in horror. "Talleth," T'car said, tears brimming in his eyes to run down his cheeks.

"What is it?" Elena asked.

"The Gongadu were blocking all contact with the dragons," Drianne said in a whisper. "So Talleth didn't know V'lan was dead."

"Won't he just choose another rider when we get back?" Elena asked, confused. "It's awful that V'lan's gone, but…"

She trailed off at the look on T'car's face, whose was the only one she could see clearly. "No one told you?" he asked, almost pityingly. "When a rider dies, their dragon suicides."

"No!" she gasped, and whirled to face the direction the others were looking in time to see Talleth take off and disappear.

"At home, the dragons will be keening, and the entire world will know that a dragon has died."

Suddenly the ground beneath their feet began to shake. Elena regained her feet and stared at the base behind them in horror. Its surface had started to glow a deep sullen red and it was trembling.

"What's happening?" she cried. "D'ron!"

x

D'ron threw another punch at the Gongadu, which ducked under it and rammed him into a bank of controls behind him. Black spots danced in front of his vision as ribs cracked and he slid down the console.

_Your species is weak,_ it sneered. _Your reliance on your endoskeleton for physical support is debilitating, and the chemical imbalances you call 'feelings' cause you to make hasty and unwise decisions._

D'ron pushed himself to his feet, despite the pain it caused him. "Shows what you know," he said grimly, and lashed out with his foot, bringing the Gongadu crashing down. He nearly blacked out as pain flared throughout his chest, and his next kick went wide as the Gongadu easily slithered beneath it and grabbed hold of his leg. Twisting, it sent him flying across the bridge to smash into a display screen and drop onto the controls beneath.

D'ron let out a cry of agony and slumped across the levers, barely conscious. The Gongadu slid over to him and its cone tilted as though it were looking at him. _Weakness,_ it hissed._ Your pathetic attacks have not harmed me, yet you lie close to death from a simple throw._

It reached out with several tentacles and lifted him off the desk, then suddenly dropped him on the floor. D'ron groaned with the impact, but his attention was diverted by the agitated waving of tentacles above him.

_Foolish creature!_ it spat, rounding on him. _Do you have any concept of the damage you have wrought?_

_Damage?_ D'ron thought weakly as a siren began to blare in his mind.

_You have activated the self-destruct sequence! Now we will all perish!_ it screamed, tentacles waving frantically.

"Good," D'ron coughed. A red light began blinking inside his helmet, and he smiled a little. "I'm dying anyway. At least I'll take you with me, and avenge my brother!"

_Your brother?_ it asked, staring down at him. _Do you refer to Anaku's test subject?_

"That's him," D'ron said with a satisfied smile.

The Gongadu's tentacles rippled, and after a few moments, D'ron realised it was laughing. "What's so funny?" he snapped.

_Your vengeance shall go unfulfilled,_ it laughed. _Anaku and her team are still on the planet below._

"What?!" D'ron gasped, his peace broken. "Then…"

_Then you have failed! Instead of avenging your kin, you have sacrificed the rest of your people, _it said. _I have already informed Anaku that her team is to gather the remaining test subjects from the area and experiment on them as she will._

Rage surged throughout D'ron, and he leapt at the Gongadu, his injuries forgotten. It caught him, and examined him thoughtfully. _It appears you have more strength than first thought,_ it said. _Perhaps I should kill you now, instead of waiting to see how long you will survive your injuries._

x

"Elena, come on!" B'kennor shouted.

"But we can't leave without him!" she cried, still staring in horror at the glowing dome.

"You said yourself that the base is going to destroy itself," Drianne said, catching hold of her arm. "D'ron is my friend too, but there's nothing we can do for him now. His sacrifice is allowing us to escape; don't let it go to waste!"  
Elena whirled to scream at her, but stopped as she saw the tears streaming down Drianne's face. Instead, she swallowed hard and nodded. As Drianne pulled her after the others, Elena glanced back at the dome, willing D'ron to appear in the doorway and follow them.

"Please… You can make it! Come on!" she chanted quietly, barely aware she was doing it. "There are so many people waiting for you… Come on!"

The glow of the dome grew even brighter, and Elena could feel a buzzing through her teeth that she knew was an agonised mechanical scream lost in the soundlessness of space. The pressure built up and up until a scream broke from her lips and her eyes screwed shut against the pain invading her head.

Then came a flash of light so bright it blinded her even through closed eyes, and when she opened them, blinking to clear her sight, the base was gone.

* * *

I think I know where I'm heading, but suggestions would be good!


End file.
